


To Fly or To Fall

by FlamesVoices



Series: Avengers Wing!Fic One Shots [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Other, Stony - Freeform, Winged Avengers, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamesVoices/pseuds/FlamesVoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark was one of the most-desired Omegas in the history of ever, with the intelligence, wings and power of an above-average Alpha, and he knows it.<br/>No matter how hard he searched, his Alpha was nowhere to be found, so he's taken that as a permission to, basically, rule his world without consequence.</p><p>That is, until after the Battle of New York, where a certain Captain Steve Rogers catches his eye, and hold it.</p><p>Slash M/M, A/B/O Dynamics in a Wing!Verse, but no NSFW in here~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the first part of this beast is up...!  
> I've loved the A/B/O dynamics and Wing!Fics in particular, so I decided to give it my best shot~!

Wings were the sole definitions of a person’s beauty. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t only the color or size, although they were small factors, of course—it also relied on how long you could stay in the air, how far you could fly, how fast.

Unfortunately, all these things, too, relied on something else—whether you were an Alpha, a Beta, or an Omega.

The Alphas could always soar quickly and pull off insane, crazy maneuvers, meant to impress none other than the Omegas, of course. They were the most colorful by far, and were the strongest and largest in size and wingspan, stretching beyond the length necessary to even sustain flight, tapering off to a point.

Betas had it good—they were the in-between of Alpha and Omega. Capable of breeding with Alpha, Omega and Beta, sure, and able to stay in the air long enough and capable of pulling off some decently acrobatic movements. It was enough, and their wings were big enough to impress some parties. While they enjoyed the simplicity of these factors, they also never had to deal with a heat, or the overkill drive to protect an Omega at all costs. They were able to enjoy peace more than any Alpha or Omega could, and especially the latter.

That being said, an Omega’s wings were always wider, making them able to stay in the air longer, but relatively short; which was the only good part about it, really—they could never pull off any sharp turns or daring dives without hurting themselves, and they were already easy enough to hurt as it was. Their wings were never the super-bright colors they could ever have possibly been. Fortunately, they had the soft brushy feathers that an owl did, and could glide silently so as not to disturb their young or Alpha. An Omega went into heat every month or so, and only had one true Alpha, although the idea was rejected more often than not.

Such was the life that Tony Stark was born into. As a youth, he’d never understood why his father rejected him, why he left for hours a night on the weekends and came back smelling foul and strange, why he spent hours to days away from home during the week and returned in an even worse mood than the time before, if it were possible. His plumage, like all children’s his age, had been the fluffy soft down of a baby, incapable of flight, and for good reason, biologically. He didn’t understand any of the words “Alpha” or “Beta” or especially “Omega”, like his father—Howard—had often used around him. He just understood it had something to do with wings and that he would understand it when he was older.

So he played with circuits and electrical power, singing the tips of his wings black in the instance of one endeavor, and learned how to be a proper genius. Howard never took notice, and over time, the desire to please him faded, but never went away completely, and Tony resented that. When his feathers were preparing for flight, finally, they began molting and irritating him; still, it was only bearable because he knew that he would be able to fly and perhaps escape Howard’s reign at home. The sky taunted him daily and there was nothing more he could do besides scowl at it and spread his wingspan, now an impressive twenty feet long, and challenge it lightly only to tuck them back in and continue on.

* * *

 

 

It was when he became fifteen that he presented.

What with his personality, his domineeringly intelligent, sassy, rash and bold genius, and his much larger-than-average wingspan, he had been sure he’d be an Alpha, if not a Beta, but never an Omega. He’d imagined those super-sharp wings and all the Omega possibilities (Supposedly, a heat spent with an Omega was the best thing an Alpha could ever get), darting through the air without a care in the world.

And all of it was ripped away from him one morning when, all of a sudden, pale gold feathers began to grow, stripes running through the pale maroon on his back. They had a slight gleam to them, at least, but the betrayal was still there; Tony locked his bedroom doors and refused to let anyone in, rejecting his wings and curling up away from them, not allowing them in his field of vision.

The flight feathers hadn’t even grown in yet—he couldn’t leave, couldn’t fly, and now, more importantly than ever, couldn’t even compete. He was an Omega. His biology had dictated that he be weaker, smaller, and more pliable than anyone else, especially all those gloating Alphas.

If he could have, he’d have spat in its face.

For almost an entire two weeks, Tony remained in his bedroom, receiving his homework through computer or someone none-too-gently shoving it under the slot in his door—probably Jarvis, he amended.

The Monday morning of his third week, he awoke to the light whoosh of air around him, but no flapping—his wings had turned out to be the truly soft owl’s wings, meant for silent descent and hunt. The gold and maroon feathers had matured, finally, while Tony had refused to stooping low and plucking at them, becoming lighter as they tapered down to the ends of his wings. In short, they were actually charmingly subtle, something Tony Stark could never possibly manage, but powerful.

With more of a positive outlook to them now, Tony Stark opened his door wide for the first time in weeks, stretched his now-flight-capable wingspan, and went outside to test them out for himself.

Of course Tony Stark refused to give up on his aerodynamics. He custom-built his flight goggles (most had some cheaper sets that would only last them a month or so at best, but his were solid metal, fine fabrics and leather, a near-lifetime guarantee.) and integrated a computational system into them, allowing a view of mathematical schematics he could possibly use to calculate when and how to do the best dives, turns, and air stunts, stupefying even the most powerful Alphas and often beating them at their own game.

Naturally, he made sure not to give a damndest about them and did his best to show it; those Alpha’s pheromones, although somewhat appealing, weren’t enough to get him salivating for them as his mate, wasn’t enough to hold his interest for longer than a second. They all wanted the same thing, and it was a real shame that he couldn’t find anyone more interesting around him.

Howard occasionally looked proud (a slight set of the chest, a twitch of the lip, a shuffle of wings) when Tony outflew an Alpha home and made sure they knew he wouldn’t stoop to their level to mate. His Alpha father’s genes had allowed him that much, Tony thought begrudgingly, and so allowed his father that much pleasure.

* * *

 

Tony had truly become unstoppable when he spanned himself into the world of college.

Most Omegas in the world would have had to sleep with their Alpha professors or Deans to get as far as Tony did, especially in the brusque and infuriating manner that he did, but he was able to compete with the Alphas presented to him. He refused them constantly, enjoying their frustration when he did, spending every heat he had alone, and never falling for the idiots who just wanted to say they fucked the billionaire's Omega Son. By the time he graduated college, his wingspan was the size of the average Alpha's, still Omega wings, but completely unique and reverent. He could've been considered a freak for it, but the only time he used them for the primitive show of intimidation was when an Alpha got too touchy, too fast, around the time of his heats. Then he would snap them open and raise them high, arching them aggressively over his head and brushing the ceiling in a totally threatening manner that would snap the Alpha awake and send them cowering.

Still, Tony was a Stark, and like the men with his family name, had a playboy habit. He slept only with Betas and Omegas, even after college was nothing but a foggy memory in his rearview mirror, and was great at what he did, but never during heat. Tony knew Omegas could only get impregnated during their heats, and like hell that was going to happen to him, especially without an Alpha. An Alpha he trusted--his Alpha. Rumors of how amazing he was in bed were only exaggerated by these partnerings, furthering the other Alpha's frustrations. There was no way he would bend over or spread his wings and present for just any Alpha, either--they had to be able to pose a challenge to him. And there was no competition. Obviously.

Tony relished in that thought often, even in those moments where he was alone, and quiet, and shuffling his soft feathers in the mirror.

It was hard being lonely and picky about his mate—while Tony was sure some Omegas weren’t nearly as choosy about their mates and perfectly happy with their young, he also knew that the abusive-alpha and bond-separation cases existed for a reason, and in alarmingly higher numbers than naturally.

* * *

 

 

Tony’s return from Afghanistan had created a remarkable turn for the world.

Pepper Potts had embraced his new outlook and dislike of weapons tentatively at first, but having decided that it was better than the “Old Tony”, she made sure to stick around for him, although she still had to berate him a little to keep him on his toes. Just because she supported the change didn’t mean he was going to miss out on all the paperwork and stress decisions like that created!

Pepper made sure to drag him to all his corporate meetings, dealing with the press conferences and trying to keep him in the good light, and separated from the Iron Man suit. Often times, she’d find him away from the project working on something of his own whenever she was already extremely pressed for time and effort. Pepper had lashed out on occasion by telling him off, threatening him in her passive-aggressive way, and doing her best to spite him as subtly as she could get away with.

Still, despite all this, she would be as cooperative as possible with Tony when she could, gently handing him a mug of coffee when he was hard at work in the lab, even if it wasn’t on what he or the company needed at the time. This often earned her a little sound of contentment and her wings a quick brushing of soft downy feathers, or what was left of them.

Tony Stark’s time in Afghanistan had left his wings utterly damaged—they were scarred and beaten, but never mutilated beyond use, otherwise the Ten Rings would’ve directly admitted to Tony that they were still going to kill him, even after what he’d do for them. He already knew that they were planning on it, of course, but that wasn’t to say he’d have liked them to completely render him flightless anyways, and so took on the challenge of rebuilding them with a pinch of salt.

The razor-sharp metal feathers and wing-plates that had accompanied the Arc Reactor onto his person had been one of many changes Tony Stark had gone through since returning from the caves—the feathers were retractable, capable of extending to the Alpha’s natural taper and creating some new aerodynamic elements for his flight, but most importantly, they protected the scarred and damaged tissues from the electrical torture chamber they’d used on him, inhibiting his ability to uncontrollably swipe out and whacking some poor buffoon up the face due to possible nerve damage. Mostly. He could still get away with that excuse, he’d mused, although it probably wouldn’t go well in the end. They were a super-light metal, riveted and sheeted together specifically so they wouldn’t inhibit his soundless flight capabilities and would also allow some spectacular performance in the air without bending and snapping off in the wind. The dagger-like ends and sword-sharp tips also gave him leverage as to why no one would dare fuck around with Tony Stark. He was proud of that, to an extent--no Alpha had bothered to do anything but proposition him, keeping their touchy hands to themselves this time.

However, the ends of his feathers, particularly his gold ones, had taken on a glowing blue tint to them, probably because of the new elemental core whirring away in his chest, and giving his already slightly-iridescent wings a metallic sheen that warned others to stay back. His underwings were now coated with silver, where the pale gold had originally been, looking like a downy fluff of metal.

But the part Tony tried his best not to think about most—his heats were no longer an occurrence in his life.

He tried to force himself to believe that it was the stress—not the torture—that had shut off his reproductive parts and not damaged them into oblivion, but it simply felt like a lie. Still, Tony hated all things hospital—doctors were the bane of his existence, especially after the surgery to his heart that had resulted in the hasty mangling of his ribcage, remains from the doctors trying to save his quickly-fading life. But this, this was something they hadn’t touched, nothing he’d believed would stop working.

Ever since he'd been held captive in the caves with Yinsen, that gentle Beta man, he hadn't had a single heat--surely due to the situation he was in at the time. It'd been a perfectly okay excuse, and for a while, he'd managed to believe it.

Until he’d escaped the caves, unexpectedly alone. Yinsen had gone ahead into the tunnels to protect him, not as a provider of an Omega, but as a friend of Tony Stark, getting shot and dying only moments after Tony arrived, too late to help the man who had saved his life.

A blinding fury had lit his heart, and he'd managed not only to escape in the heavy iron suit with his tattered wings, but he'd taken his friend with him, in a way. He'd used his wings to guide the massive piece of metal through the sky with the thrust of the rockets, setting the world behind him ablaze.

He'd been expecting to go into heat only a day or two after returning home, especially being surrounded by Alphas and with an undying need to feel safe, not to mention the distress-pheromones that were positively pouring from him, but to his surprise, nothing. Tony had shrugged it off, believing it'd come within the week. And the next. Maybe by the end of the month—no? Then the next month. Maybe the next.

Tony Stark had stopped counting after the fifteenth month without a heat, and had quietly accepted the thought that he might never have the opportunity to be useful to anyone- other than the Iron Man.

He threw himself into the project headfirst, and throughout the entire process, Obadiah had betrayed him, Rhodey had betrayed him by taking one of his suits (though for good reason, so he was completely forgiven), and even Pepper had doubted him a few times. He’d gone so far as to risk his life more than twice for them, even more if he considered the palladium poisoning, and that was his thank you?

Okay, so maybe there were one too many miscommunications. And a few more. And a couple times where JARVIS “shorted” out and cleared a day on the calendar. And maybe he’d accidentally tripped out the computers at Stark Industries into doing nothing but play cat videos instead of powerpoint slides or information for meetings one—or five—times more than necessary. Okay, fine—they were even. But still.

Tony Stark had no equal, and he was more than happy with that. For now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Steve in this chapter, mostly just foundation work here, but I promise he'll be in the next one~!
> 
> Also, this is my first Stony fic, so please be gentle with me~! If you have any constructive critiques for me, please don't hesitate to tell me~! <333


	2. The Captain's Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve bond over coffee, toasters, bad movies, and rain storms that Thor may or may not have had anything to do with.
> 
> They also start to wonder if, just if, they could work together as more than just teammates, and much more than just friends.
> 
> Oh, but that's just if, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finally got to write Steve into this story, about time~!
> 
> Anyways, yes, this second chapter is finally up, and I think there'll probably be one more and then this beast will be done~!  
> Till then, enjoy! <333

 “Tony,” Natasha’s disapproving voice filtered in behind him, echoing in the lab as he fiddled blearily with a toaster on his desk, mouth full of stale bacon and hair sticking up in all directions.

“Did you stay up all night?” She chastised with a sigh. He checked the clock in front of him, carelessly dropping his wings to the floor behind him with a clattering sound. “Guess so!” He replied cheerfully, plugging the toaster in. “Was important work, totally worth it!”

“Your settings, sir?” The toaster inquired at once, and he grinned. He’d not only made it talk, but also Thor-proofed the thing and removed the buttons and lever, making it possibly the most confusing piece of technology the god could’ve ever faced.

“You _made the toaster talk_.” Natasha deadpanned. “ _That’s_ the important work you had to do all night? Just to screw around with Thor and Steve?”

“To be fair, the challenge came from trying to make it Thor-proof, remember,” he defended himself quickly, scratching his head. “Not sure if it would survive the Cap’s shield though,” he mumbled on, searching his desk for a not-empty mug of coffee, his search coming up empty.

Natasha sighed. “You know, Pepper wouldn’t like to see you doing this to yourself,” she remarked, earning an irate twitch of the wing in irritation.

“Yeah, well, she’s busy doing other things, CEO of SI and whatnot, and I can take care of myself just fine, Nat.”

“The Cap wouldn’t like it much either,” she continued nonchalantly, like he hadn’t spoke.

Tony tensed.

Ever since meeting _the_ Captain America, Tony had been enthralled by the massive wingspan he’d had, even if he’d had some serious issues getting along with the guy. Tony had also taken personal issue with the man, being judged by “the perfect Alpha”, and having said Alpha remind him of his failure in saving Yinsen and Coulson with only a few words. The soldier probably hadn’t even been aware of it, but it still hurt.

As if to defy everything the Captain had assumed about him, Tony did just that—sacrificing himself again and again through the recovery of the engine, guiding a nuclear missile out of the city of New York, even finding a way out while he was at it, and, to top it off, offering his home to the Avengers, who accepted gratefully.

When he’d woken up after the Hulk had rescued and crashed back to the earth with him, he’d been surrounded by Steve’s massive wings, supporting his own crushed metallic pair with the patriotic Alpha up and close to his face, concern written clear across his face and something like apology in his eyes. The Captain had flinched just a little bit when he’d panicked and blurted out “Please tell me no one kissed me!”

He was still indecisive as to whether he should feel disappointed or not that it appeared nobody had, but he ignored it and let it be.

If anyone asked, yes, Tony was still pretty irritated with the man. But at the same time, it was hard not becoming flustered and charmed around him—even when Tony’s face didn’t show it, his wings definitely tried to. That wasn’t ok by his standards, so he often kept his wings locked tensely and tucked behind him, and let it be said that he’d been doing his best around the Captain, especially after the two or three months of separation between the two.

“Fine, I’ll leave,” he managed after a huff, if only to satisfy Natasha’s wish, unplugging the toaster and shoving it under his arm, heading up the stairs.

“Good, get some sleep!” She called up after him. He pretended not to hear her order and climbed up just a little bit faster.

* * *

Finally up on the team’s commons floor that they all shared, Tony deftly replaced the toaster in the kitchen with the one he’d just added onto, shoving the other one in a cupboard under the counters, far behind a menagerie of appliances and Tupperware, impossible to find unless the searcher knew exactly where it was under the pile.

Once done, Tony reached for the coffee pot with greedy eyes and shuffled his wings excitedly as he started up the machine, hoping to head back up to his room to burrow in some comfortable blankets and maybe take a shower if he wasn’t asleep or too exhausted after the coffee. And maybe, once he was done, Steve and the rest of the team would be up for a movie night; he always managed to ‘accidentally’ end up touching Steve one way or another during those, be it wing-to-wing contact or the slight brushing of hands, enjoying the miniscule reactions he created in doing so.

The beeps of the machine alerted Tony of the fresh brew, and he filled a rather massive mug with the coffee, not bothering to mix it with any milk or sugar and drinking half of it in all in one go. Pleased, he decided he could finally ascend the stairs, and maybe deal with human contact afterwards. Maybe.

As he turned to leave, he collided with a wall— _Odd,_ Tony thought. _I don’t remember putting a wall here, especially one that smells like—oh._

“Um. Hi Tony,” an awkward voice greeted him.

“Hiya Cap,” he replied, taking a step back to peer at his team leader’s face. “Not nice to be sneaking up on a person like me, you know,” he told him cheekily, and felt a smug little surge when the pink on the Steve’s cheeks deepened into a brighter red.

“Sorry, Tony, I didn’t mean—“ He paused, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, wings lowering behind him. “Never mind, I just wanted to get something from the kitchen…”

“It’s fine,” Tony smirked, shrugging past the Captain with minimal fuss. His wings brushed against Steve’s, a little deliberately, a little not, and he heard him suck in a quick breath, sudden.

 _What was that?_ Tony mused, smug, continuing on his way to his bedroom and stepping into his shower and scrubbing the filth that clung to him for more than three days, or at least, according to JARVIS and Natasha it was.

Once he was done and had preened his wings just enough to be acceptable, he changed into one of his band T-shirts, flopping down onto the arrangement that he’d come to use to define his nest and dozing off.

Like everyone else, Tony had a nest, but none were ever the same or similar to another, each unique to the individual’s tastes. It was said that Omegas, in particular, were known for the most elaborate and colorful nests, although no studies had proven this for sure.

Originally, his nest had had fabrics, cushions and objects that were exclusively gold, silver, or bright red, much like the Iron Man suit, but lately, mixtures of red, white and blue had begun to appear, and all in one corner, compiling to look like an extremely patriotic spot in the room. He’d been rather disgruntled in discovering his newfound fascination with the color schemes, but was certain that nobody knew about this particular quirk beside himself, and he was determined to keep it that way.

* * *

Tony hadn’t noticed that he’d fallen asleep, waking up late in the night with the sun already far gone, and the building quieted, suggesting all the workers on the floors down below had gone home long ago.

Grunting, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and padded down to the elevator, descending to the commons floor where the other Avengers had gathered, Clint and Thor competitively stealing the gigantic bowl of pasta from one another at the dinner table, fighting for additional servings while Natasha ate a petite portion, seated between them and Bruce and Steve who were a bit more civilized when picking from the bowl.

“Ah, friend Tony, you finally return from your rest!” Thor boomed cheerfully, greeting him with a flared left wing that also, coincidentally, nudged Clint’s arms off the table and away from the serving bowl. The Omega grinned at this, and shrugged.

“Hey, what can I say? Sleeping Beauty, gotta get rest somehow,” he chuckled, moving to join the group. Bruce quickly cleared a space between himself and Steve, bunching up his feathers behind him politely with a nod to his friend. Tony nodded his thank you in return, pulling up a chair, snagging a plate, and digging in with gusto.

“Speaking of Sleeping Beauty,” Clint piped up, finally bothering to make eye contact with the group instead of gorging on his spaghetti.

“We were thinking of watching some classic Disney movies—to help the Cap get up to date, of course,” he continued. Steve glanced over at Tony, whose lip twitched.

They’d failed to mention to the rest of the team that they’d been catching up already. It had become a weekly ritual of sorts between the two—whenever Tony got back from his meetings with Pepper, and Steve returning from a hard day of training recruits, they’d both settle in to watch a movie or two to de-stress and just relax.

They had actually just gotten through the first twenty movies or so that Tony found classically important, such as the Jurassic Park series (taking him to see the new revival opening weekend), Jaws, Star Wars, and plenty of other Disney movies that he didn’t bother remembering much.

“Sure, Clint,” Steve agreed easily, reaching for another serving of pasta, which Thor reluctantly allowed, eying him closely as he fished some out and onto his plate.

Tony shrugged. “Why not, it’ll be fun.” He nudged gently Bruce with his left wing, who sighed and gave in to the little pressure, Natasha rolling her eyes, but smiling just a little.

“Awesome. I’m thinking we could watch Robin Hood? That one was a good one,” Clint suggested.

Tony grimaced a tiny bit—they’d already seen that one, and the Captain hadn’t really liked it as much.

“What if we forego the Disney, and watch another film?” Thor suggested, surprising him as he picked up on the tiny change. Clint sighed, and Tony grinned a little.

“Lord of the Rings?” He suggested slyly, taking another forkful of spaghetti as he did. The archer’s eyes gleamed a little, but he agreed with enough enthusiasm that he figured he’d been forgiven.

Once everyone had (finally) finished eating, Thor mourning the impossibly emptied bowl of spaghetti as they went, the team meandered over to the media room, choosing their spots on the couches, chairs and large cushions on the ground for when Tony wanted to flop down in front of the screen without risking falling off of something.

Settling down a couple of these huge cushions, his wings sprawled out behind him, relaxed for once as Tony did. He hid a pleased smile when the Captain joined him, the others shuffling their wings before settling in comfortably at last.

Unfortunately, the problem with sitting with Steve was the fact that his large wings would shuffle uncomfortably as they tried to settle in a comfortable position without taking up the entire floor space. He wanted to stretch them out in the same manner that Tony’s did, so with an exasperated sigh, the billionaire dragged Steve closer to his side, allowing his left wing to drape over him so the right one would also have space.

“You’re fussy,” he complained quietly, settling down once more, a little more content than he was moments ago.

Alarmed, Steve had tensed up before relaxing just a little, turning his attentions to the screen instead. Tony hadn’t ever simply grabbed and dragged him around like that before, but he hadn’t seemed to mind too much. Unbeknownst to them, Clint and Thor exchanged glances before shrugging at one another, neither wanting to say anything in front of Tony and Steve.

JARVIS loaded the movie up a shortly after, and within moments had the group quiet and making as little fuss as possible, entranced with the film.

* * *

For Steve, the most fun part about watching movies with Tony that he actually liked was the Omega’s reactions. He’d learned to discern which movies he liked, from the way that he rolled his shoulders and wings and blinked more with the ones he didn’t like, versus those that kept his eyes glued to the screen, greedily taking in the scenes that were playing in front of him. Sometimes his wings would quiver during a somewhat intense point in the movie, subtle, but a quirk that made Steve want to smile nonetheless. It was nice to know that, through all the sass and bravado, Tony was just as sensitive as the rest of the team, if not more so.

Sometimes he would just watch the light and colors play on his friend’s face, watching just to see if they affected the deep brown of Tony’s eyes. He was always relieved to find that the integrity of his eye colors remained; not that Tony noticed. If anything, Steve was subtle and careful about this thing.

He’d be doodling idly in his sketchbooks the next day before realizing that he’d drawn Tony’s eyes, or his hands, or even parts of the Iron Man suit that had become so intriguing to him, like the gauntlets, the helmet, the chest plates, and almost reverently, the Arc Reactor, although he’d never understood what it was for, other than powering the Iron Man suit. Steve was never one to pry if he knew how sensitive the topic could be, but he had a feeling that he was never going to find out unless he dragged it out of Tony himself.

He felt Tony shift under him, and lifted his left wing so the smaller man could squirm out from under it and off the floor, onto his feet. “I want some dessert—anyone else got the same problem?”

Five pairs of wings twitched with interest, be it enthusiastic shuffling, the flapping of one wing or the other that was close to the raising-hands gesture, and in Thor’s case, flaring up once excitedly before settling back behind him.

“Right, I’m on it. I’ll just run down and grab some then, I’ll be back soon.” He left quickly, and Steve frowned a little, wings twitching uncomfortably at the lack of comforting heat under them.

That was an Alpha thing, he supposed—feeling possessive at every opportunity, especially whenever Tony was involved, and his wings were always itching to wrap around the Omega when he was around. Still, the Captain supposed that it had something to do with the fact that he’d never found his Omega during his time, seventy years ago, and was wondering, hoping, that maybe Tony would be it.

But he’d never shown any interest—he flirted, sure, but Tony flirted with everyone. He spent one-on-one time with him watching movies, wings often brushing one another, but then he’d also seen Tony stroke his maroon feathers against Bruce’s, often after the man had Hulked out, comforting.

No, Tony just saw him as another teammate, and while that thought should have been decently comforting to Steve, he felt a bit deflated and tried not to think too much about it anymore.

* * *

 

It was about thirty minutes later that Steve's concern peaked—Tony didn’t just up and disappear like that, and the rest of the Avengers noticed it too. Still, no one had said anything for fear of insulting the team’s faith in the man.

Finally, a rather persistent nudge from Natasha prodded the archer enough to ask their resident AI for assistance.

“Hey, JARVIS, could you please pause the movie?” Clint asked the AI timidly, who did so at once.

“Do you know where Tony is?” Steve pressed, a little tentatively.

“Mister Stark left the Tower half an hour ago,” JARVIS stated. “He’s not far from here, at a nearby coffee shop, I believe.”

"Why would he go out?" Bruce asked, bemused. "We have a coffee machine here."

"I am not entitled to say," JARVIS replied. "Although Mister Stark has noticed our lack of dessert foods here. I have been instructed to add these things to all the future shopping lists from this point on. I believe he's gone to go get some of these himself."

"But... He's just lounging around there?" Clint pressed. "During the movie night?"

Natasha said nothing, simply furrowing her brow. "I think there are some reasons, just let Stark be for now."

"I concur," Thor insisted. "Anthony has been very gracious with us so far, and it would not do to be irate with him simply due to his kindness towards us."

"I guess," Clint replied, abashed. He crossed his arms, and looked for all the world like a petulant child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“I’ll go get him,” Steve volunteered. “He probably needs another pair of hands to carry those—I’ll be back. Feel free to keep watching, you guys or Tony can fill me in when I’m back.”

He scrambled to his feet a bit, wings shaking off some of the carpet fibers as he headed over to the balcony before anyone could argue or protest.

Once they were out of his hearing range, he breathed a sigh and slowed his pace, pausing in his haste. _Why would Tony go to a coffee shop if they had a perfectly working coffee machine not ten yards away?_ He thought worriedly, absentmindedly hooking his wireless earpiece on and tightening it so it wouldn’t fall in the duration of his flight. _Did I do something to make him uncomfortable...?_ _But, it’s not even a good night to be doing any of this—it actually looks like it’s going to storm tonight…! I need to go find him, I need to make sure he's safe..._

Very quickly becoming decisive, he spread his massive wingspan and stepped off the balcony and into the air, plummeting towards the earth below before beating his powerful wings and swooping out of the free fall into a glide.

“JARVIS, can I get an address?” He asked, and the AI quickly responded with the address, giving him directions until he arrived at the destination, spiraling down to the pavement with little more than a gentle “whump!”

The Captain folded his wings, taking care not to brush them against anyone as he peered inside the café windows, looking to find Tony, who was perched at a high counter to the wall, eying the barista with a streak of impatience in his eyes. Steve shuffled his way into the restaurant, the bell ringing and announcing his presence, smiling shyly when Tony’s eyes zoned in on him. The smaller man nearly bolted over to him, not doing so just to mind his rather large wings and the other customers waiting in line.

“Best café this side of New York,” Tony explained. “I wanted something cold, so I walked here, and surprise—the place is packed, and I couldn’t even get through the street without the fans being… Well.” He sighed, looking a little worn, wings slumping just a little. “I’m still going to grab something for everyone else, obviously, but—what brings you here, Cap?”

“We were worried, didn’t know why you’d been gone for so long, and I came out here to look for you, since that’s where JARVIS said you were going to be,” Steve explained. Tony made a face.

“Traitor,” he grumbled lightly. Still, he returned to his seat, pulling up the extra stool so Steve could actually join him.

“The guys in the back of the kitchens keep coming up to the front,” he explained. “They keep pretending they’re not pulling out their phones and stuff, but it’s slowing the rest of the line down, so here I am.”

Fondly exasperated, Steve quickly risked a gentle nudge of his wings against Tony’s, who seemed to welcome the touch. They waited for a few extra minutes, at least another ten. Just as he was about to suggest leaving, Tony’s expression brightened and he hopped up to claim his drink, crowding his wings around Steve’s and nearly shoving him out the door, following behind him closely.

“Well, that took forever,” Tony remarked, spreading his wings a bit to feel the breeze around him. He was surprisingly careful about how quickly he drank the coffee in his hands, and Steve began to wonder—was it really that good, or was he savoring it just because he’d waited so long for it? It was a guess at this point, but apparently he’d looked curious enough for Tony to smirk a little and let him have a sip.

The taste was strong, definitely Tony’s preference with coffee, but also blended well with other tastes like hazelnut and cinnamon. It was definitely worth it, and he understood why the inventor had respected its ingenuity.

They stopped at a convenience store along the way back, bickering playfully over what flavors of ice cream, candy and drinks their teammates would prefer, who would eat what, who would make faces, and who was going to fight over what.

By the time they’d made their decisions, it had begun to rain outside, pretty heavily, with thunder rumbling threateningly overhead. While Steve paid it no mind, he noticed Tony twitch a little every time it sounded. It was a five-minute walk back to the tower from where they were, but a flight less than twenty seconds. Still, flying in heavy rain was extremely dangerous, due to unpredictable weather and the fact that the water created extra weight on a human’s wings, making them tire faster and more susceptible to being blown off course or falling to the ground.

Even if he knew he could make it there just fine, Steve was definitely not going to risk Tony that way and followed the billionaire out.

After sloshing through the rain and watching Tony become progressively more protective over the cold bag of goods in his hands, he spread his wings, raising them over his and Tony’s head to provide some shelter from the downpour.

“Thanks,” Tony spoke, blinking in surprise, but contentedly accepting. It was an old-fashioned favor, Steve had acknowledged, much like sharing an umbrella, but it was definitely something still appreciated in this day and age, no matter how rare.

Once they arrived back at the Tower, Tony and Steve had taken the elevator up and presented the large delivery of sugary goods to the group, who forgave Tony for being gone so long and caught the Captain up on some of the things he’d missed while the inventor ran upstairs to get some towels. He was bewildered at how much had happened while he was gone, and they still hadn’t even reached the end of the film.

Steve had settled down on the cushions by the time Tony returned, accepting the towels to dry his wings and shoulders off gratefully.

As much as he’d wished for him to offer to help him dry his wings a little, Steve knew that it was a rather taboo thing to touch someone else’s wings with bare skin unless the contact was shared between a bonded pair.

It was considered a hugely intimate thing to initiate, and even though the notion was very much old-fashioned, it had remained a strongly ingrained part of modern culture anyways.

Much to his misfortune, Steve spent the rest of the movie drying his left wing and his shoulders, not even preening his feathers yet, accepting whatever snacks Tony had offered to him while he did--and by offered to him, he actually meant that he ate whatever food or spoonful of ice cream Tony pressed to his lips relentlessly until he did.

When the movie ended, he ended up saying his good night to everyone as they left for bed while barely starting on his right wing, dripping with water and particularly cold, even thought it'd been resting on a pile of towels.

Just as he'd begun to dry the inside of his right wing, he heard the unmistakable clinking shuffling sound of a certain pair of wings, still outside the door. He glanced up as it eased open a crack, watching Tony peer around the door. “Heya Cap. Did you… Maybe want some help with that?”

Steve blinked a couple times, just trying to process the offer and the implications that came with it. “Of course—I mean, yes, if you want,” he managed, relieved that he hadn’t stuttered or anything.

Tony walked into the room to join Steve on the floor, and quietly shut the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that wing-umbrella scene was inspired by this cute little comic thing I found a long time ago here:  
> https://40.media.tumblr.com/c3d08d483ed3c1547a5dea8035d25e50/tumblr_n3tkqgwkG41tsrki0o1_500.jpg
> 
> I absolutely love writing wing!fics though, so I'll probably do some fluff drabbles with these two in the future as well, probably not directly related to this fic but with some of the same elements involved.


	3. The Great Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve get closer and closer together, only for an alien and a demigod to intervene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this guy took so long--this point of the story was a real pain to write, but here it is nonetheless!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, the next chapter will have more Steve in it and a little less Tony, just so he can spend some time with y'all and say his hellos. <33

Tony crept into the dim room rather slowly, as if trying not to startle the Captain, whose wings curled in a bit shyly as he approached, coming around his other side to sit by Steve’s left wing, which had feathers sticking up awkwardly here and there.

Tentatively, hoping his hands wouldn’t shake, Tony brushed his fingers against the soft downy feathers sticking up over the top of the wing. It flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away from him, allowing him to be a bit more confident in his movements.

“Is this okay?” He asked, intensely watching Steve’s face for any sign of pain, fear or dislike.

“I—uh. Yeah, it’s fine, just… Different,” he murmured, flexing his now-buzzing left wing. He tried to be productive, he really did—every time Tony fixed a feather back into place or brushed them down the way they should go, though, he was lost in the sensation of comfort, fingers stilling in their work. Steve wondered wildly for a moment if that was how a dog felt when scratched behind the ears, dazedly shaking his head and going back to drying his now-shaggy-looking plumes.

“Steve, could you flip your—yeah, there you go. Thanks,” Tony’s voice hummed as Steve’s wing became pliable, turning every which way that he so wanted with the touch of a finger, and Steve was suddenly super grateful that the lights had been dimmed, helping him hide his red cheeks a little better.

Who knew the Omega’s touch would have such a soothing effect on him? Especially because this was Tony Stark, the man who intentionally infuriated those around him, just to get a reaction.

After the inventor was satisfied with his wing, he seated himself on the cushion in before Steve, who turned an even brighter shade of red as the man shuffled closer to him, and picked up another towel to attend to those now-flustered wings.

With a gentle nudge, Tony’s flight feathers brushed against Steve’s, and he more willingly leaned his right wing against Tony’s hands, less nervous now than he had been earlier. The pheromones that both parties were exuding were strong and dense now that the two were as close as they were, able to feel each other’s breath on the other’s cheek. It smelled of strong attraction, seeming to call for one another somehow, especially now with their wings practically draped over the other.

Throughout the entire exchange, the two were silent, as if afraid that any words spoken might destroy the moment. Tony knew he had the tendency to do exactly that, and was careful not to make that mistake, especially now. For once in his life, Tony actually didn’t know what was going to happen—had Steve understood just what he’d meant? Was the stigma somehow different in Steve’s time? He worried quietly, combing his fingers carefully through pearly white feathers, soothed by the way they brushed against his skin, healthy, strong and perfect. He did his best not to think about his own wings and just how ruined they would look compared to this sheer beauty.

Steve had been extremely careful in his movements, afraid of scaring Tony away. He treasured this strangely special moment and didn’t want it going to waste, or at least to get away from him just because he was startled. Once he was satisfied with the arrangement of feathers, Tony reluctantly withdrew his fingers from the downy wings, unaware of his wings spreading behind him, presenting themselves to Steve, whose eyes widened slightly.

“Tony?” Steve breathed, uncertain as he slowly arched massive wings over them, curling around the smaller man just a little, not quite touching him, but an offer. He watched nervously as Tony hesitated, just for a moment, worried that he’d overstepped some kind of boundary.

“Steve,” he sighed the man’s name, pressing his forehead against Steve’s gently, and was eagerly ensconced in the huge ivory feathers, Tony wings-and-all swallowed entirely by the Alpha’s wings.

It was a completely glorious moment that both Steve and Tony never wanted to end. Having each other’s warmth and company was absolutely amazing, and the two breathed each other in.

Steve was absolutely relaxed—having Tony under his wings with him made him feel whole, as if he was holding a part of him that he hadn’t realized was missing before. Tony smelled of spices and metal and coffee and comfort and home and something he couldn’t quite identify yet.

For a long time, they remained like this, swaying just a little, just to remind each other that it was very, very real.

 _This was everything I wanted and I didn’t even know it…!_ Tony thought nervously, charging the air with nerves.

Sure—he’d been attracted to Steve almost the entirety of the time that he’d known him, and while he’d personally been famous for his one-night stands, the thought of an unbreakable relationship was extremely intimidating.

Initiating a bond between Alpha, Beta or Omega was equivalent to marriage in the powers of law, but considered a one-time deal. It was a pretty ceremonial thing, and extremely intimate. While it sometimes included the bite of an Alpha in the Omega’s case, it also had lots to do with their wings, having them brush against their partner’s in a certain way that, if done right, would trigger the others’ scent glands to mark each other and create a mixed scent that would scream “I’m taken!” to the rest of the world.

He wasn’t sure he wanted someone to have that claim over him quite yet—even if that someone was as wonderful as Steve was. Although he definitely wasn’t ready to speak, and definitely not ready to ruin the moment, he didn’t feel ready yet, but he didn’t want Steve avoiding him or thinking he didn’t care—Tony still wanted Steve, of course he did.

“Steve?” He began, tentatively, pulling away just enough to look at the man in question, who hummed a contented sound in reply.

“I—um. Well, I wanted to start off and tell you, that this… This thing here, that we’re doing—it means something to me, and I’m hoping that it’s the same for you because I really, really like you and don’t want you to think that I don’t or that it’s just a fad or something that I’ll never want to do again or anything—“

“Tony,” Steve interrupted him, squeezing him gently—since when had he holding him?—and smiled a little, melting Tony’s heart just a little. Not that he’d ever say so, of course, but he had a feeling that Steve already knew it by now.

“You’re rambling,” he chuckled, smiling shyly, and Tony couldn’t be blamed for the red flush on his cheeks. Or the part where he was suddenly pressing his lips against Steve’s, he couldn’t be blamed for that too.

The Alpha froze, and Tony panicked. _Did I do something wrong?_ His mind screamed, only to fall silent when, once again, Steve proved him wrong and responded; the kiss was inexperienced and messy and a little wet, but Tony wouldn’t have traded it for anything else in the world.

When the two finally broke away, Tony found himself tucked into a comfortable hug, surrounded safely by wings and arms and Steve.

“We’ll take it slow,” Steve promised. “I don’t want to rush this, and I most importantly, don’t want to rush you. Okay?”

“That’s—thank you, Cap,” Tony agreed easily, relieved. He paused for a moment, squinting at Steve’s face before looking him in the eye. Puzzled, Steve raised a brow. “What is it?”

“We can still do the kissing thing, right? That’s still on the table, not a one-time deal?” Tony asked, behaving like himself a bit more, and grinning as Steve choked out a startled laugh.

“Yeah—yes, that’s definitely something we can keep doing,” he laughed. With a smirk, Tony proudly claimed those smiling lips once more, his heart soaring when the Captain responded just as enthusiastically.

Things were going to be awesome. 

* * *

The next morning, after having woken up to the empty media room, and knowing where the genius Omega had gone, Steve went to the roof for fresh air with sketchpad in hand, enjoying the feel of wind on his feathers and thinking.

Ever since he’d met Tony, there had been something about the Omega that had caught his attentions. See, most Omegas he’d been pursued by seventy years ago had been fragile and uninteresting—he’d only been interested in Peggy because of her sincerity as a person, but she was a Beta, and it was considered strange for Alphas to be with Betas instead of Omegas at the time, god forbid with another Alpha.

But in his time, Steve hadn’t ever found his Omega, and here he was—suddenly sure that this man was one hundred percent who he wanted.

 _This is it, then,_ he thought. _Tony is the one for me._

But as the Captain’s Omega, it would be nearly impossible for him not to want to protect him, and just reaching back for that memory of Iron Man flying the nuclear missile into the portal during the Battle of New York was enough to get him flinching and tense. If anything like that ever happened again, he’d be devastated and wouldn’t be able to let the man out of his sight, regardless of how well he could handle himself.

He looked down on the page, smiling wryly as he realized whose wings he’d sketched absentmindedly, and promised himself he’d draw them properly soon.

* * *

 

“Stark, you’re flying too low, watch out!”

Tony swore under his breath as he pulled up and away from the doombots roaming down below him just in time. Ever since the movie night a few months ago, Steve had most definitely become a more prominent figure in his life, spending plenty of time together with him and with the team, building a strong relationship with one another.

But he’d also become more easily jealous and protective, too—telling him to watch out and giving him more orders than usual, most often putting them near one another. While he loved working with Steve and being near him, it was starting to get to him a little, especially considering that Steve wasn’t his Alpha yet.

 _Yet?—damn it, Tony,_ He thought, relieved that nobody could see the flush on his face at the realization of it. With a heart-stopping drop, Tony shut off his repulsors just long enough to twirl midair with his wings, now facing the direction from where he’d come, and powered through the group of minotaur-looking aliens.

“I swear whoever’s up there sends us a ton of these just to show us how many he can get together in a week!” He cursed, leaving a trail of explosions behind him, flying back to Steve’s side where the man had been surrounded. He could handle himself well, yes, but Tony was an impatient person, helping him take out the group much more quickly.

“Captain! I have found the source of the beasts!” Thor’s voice boomed over the intercom, and Tony held back a wince at his volume.

“Great, take that portal out!” Steve ordered, flaring his wings and taking off to go scout for any escapees or rogue aliens escaping their perimeter.

“Very well!” There was a crackling sound at the other end of the connection, the tell-tale sign that lightning was approaching, and Tony shot into the air to watch the bolt from the sky touch down.

The explosion was glorious, and the Hulk returned to them in one piece, carting both Natasha and Clint on his back, the duo having latched onto his overly muscular wings with tenacious expertise.

“That was really strange,” Clint piped up. “This kind of thing usually lasts longer… It’s almost like it was a distraction.”

“But there weren’t any alerts going up through the rest of the city,” Natasha protested.

“I don’t know about that,” Tony called down, lowering towards them easily with a gentle hovering motion. “JARVIS?”

“Sir, there’s been a breach in my memory systems—it would appear that there’s been some tampering with the surveillance in the Tower and power outages nearby,” The AI replied.

Tony panicked, remembering that Pepper was there alone, and shot off before anyone else could say anything.

“Tell Pepper to get out of there!” He ordered.

“I have already evacuated the building, sir,” JARVIS quickly replied. “My archives are almost back online. You may have a surprise in the penthouse upon your arrival. Please take all precautions—“

“Now you’re starting to sound like the good Captain, J,” Tony grumbled as he neared the building.

He touched down on his landing pad and entered the penthouse—lo and behold, the large black and green wings, with that same golden plating covering parts of them, now somewhat damaged and less grand.

“Loki,” he growled, shocked to see him standing there as he did.

For some odd reason, something seemed off about him—the way he stood was all wrong, his feathers were twisted, singed, and sticking up at odd angles, obviously not having been groomed lately, and the quite obvious air of exhaustion that exuded from his frame.

“Man of Iron,” he greeted him, careful to show both his hands, and doing his best not to make the human suspicious.

“What have you done?” Tony managed finally, examining Loki even further and becoming more and more concerned as the trickster fell to his knees.

“My—The Allfather bound most of my magical abilities. I cannot fight as well with my magic or teleport as I used to anymore,” he explained. “And without those capabilities, I cannot escape the ones who are after me. I apologize, but there was nowhere I knew could go but here.”

Just as he was going to snarl arbitrary threats and snap at how stupid the idea was in all senses, the Iron Man heard a huge bang coming from the upper floors, and Loki’s face paled.

“It’s not—they’ve found me,” he breathed, panic and fear coloring his eyes, now an honest and pure green rather than that milky blue he'd seen last. Tony’s lips tightened, clenching his jaw for just a moment before he made a decision.

“Okay, Reindeer Games, you’re coming with me to deal with them, then, since this is your fault,” Tony told him, snagging the demigod off the ground and shooting back out of the penthouse again before he could argue, taking off to find that a giant minotaur-alien had landed atop the Tower and was preparing to smash it down, piece by piece.

With a grunt, he hefted Loki into the air, who batted his wings in alarm, catching and reorienting himself, before being thrown at the alien.

“Loki, distract that thing until I find a weak spot if you want us to have a reason to keep you alive!” The billionaire shot up as the alien chucked a portion of the roof at him, barely managing to get away as the demigod scowled, but cooperated, regardless.

The beast was hideous, covered in matted grey fur that was missing patches in some places, black tribal-like markings covering its back and arms, face looking like a crocodile’s with all those teeth hanging out of its mouth, and two pairs of heavy, ivory-colored bull-horns that were ornately covered with gold bands and markings. The beast was rather top-heavy, so Tony flew over it as Loki yelped, making the drop relatively safely and flashed behind the beast to avoid the massive claws scraping a hole where he’d been only seconds before.

“JARVIS, get the other Avengers here, now!” He quickly demanded, spiraling around the beast quickly as he tried to find an opening or weak spot.

A spear materialized in Loki’s hand, a large sword-like blade at the tip gleaming sharply, but obviously not Tesseract-related. He grunted once, slashing at the legs of the beast who barely managed to fit on the small platform, dodging yet another swipe as Iron Man swooped around, firing missiles at the beast’s sides and earning a shrieking, ear-piercing roar in return.

One of four bulky arms swiped out at him, and he managed to evade the strike easily enough.

“Loki, tell me you’ve got something here!” He barked, swearing as the beast opened it’s maws wide and took off yet another half of the two upper floors in one crunch. The demigod whined in reply, something about the horns and belly, and Tony took that chance, preparing his lasers to try and de-horn the beast as Loki ran under the beast’s belly and sliced it open.

The innards were a disgusting black-ish purple, hissing and steaming as they made contact with the building and air before dissolving into black sand. Still, the beast stood, although the pained howl it made as it turned on Loki and snagged him from underneath his now-opened belly suggested that heavy damage had been struck.

“Rogers! Barton, Romanoff, someone!” He barked into the comm link, finding only static at the end of the transmission.

Frantic now, he blasted his way over to the head of the beast and lashed at the monster’s horns with a beam of light, taking two of them out and leaving the other two awkwardly unbalancing the beast.

It roared, and it was enough to make it let go of Loki, who was quickly snagged out of the air by the Iron Man. He was quick to swing from his grasp, however, and slashed at the beast’s back with an easy glide, holding onto his spear with all his might as he stabbed the creature from behind and tried his best not to fly off.

“Steve?” He pleaded. Nothing.

“Man of Iron, you’ve become idle!!” He snapped breathlessly as the beast whirled, arms too massive to even reach behind him. “Do something!”

Tony grimaced, firing missiles off at the horns on the opposing side of its head, the resounding screams of the monster declaring its demise as black sand poured off of it. He shot after Loki when the beast reared up suddenly, as if it meant to take the demigod with him to his death.

And despite how Tony hated what Loki had done, he rushed to catch the demigod before he hit another building or fell to his death.

As soon as he’d grabbed Loki mid-air, a wild swipe of the beast’s claws and legs managed to clip Tony’s wings, and with a cry, he heard a crunching break that meant his wings were definitely broken.

It was at this point in the fight that JARVIS forcibly took over his flight pattern, steering the two back up towards the penthouse while Loki attempted to navigate and assist him in guiding the suit—and the both of them—to safety.

Once they’d leveled up just enough, the two collapsed on the launch pad, Tony on his back and nearly unconscious from his pain, and Loki doing his best to catch his breath. When he glanced over at the mangled maroon and gold wings, Loki hurried over to his side and gently rolled the man onto his belly, who whimpered and tried to rise even in his injured state.

“Man of Iron, please be still,” the demigod huffed, rising and pulling something from a pouch he’d been carrying under his armor—a healing stone, Thor had once called it. He crumbled it over the billionaire’s wings, watching the wings properly reset themselves with unsettling cracks and pops. Tony stifled his shrieks of pain, biting his cheek. Despite having repaired most of the massive fracturing and shattered bones, Tony’s wings were still in plenty of pain, just not so much that it would drive him to death all at once.

Relieved only a little, he watched as Loki spread his wings—a span that wasn’t particularly unimpressive, but still not as impressive as Steve’s, he acquiesced—and draped one protectively over him as he drifted into sweet, painless unconsciousness, managing to wish, wildly, that Steve was there holding him in the air instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still an amateur at these, so please feel free to leave some constructive criticism and helpful critiques for me down below if you have any, I promise not to bite~<333


	4. Shattered Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki joins the fray and the Superhusbands have a disagreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry for the wait on this one! This was supposed to be the last chapter, but due to the word count, it looks like I'll be adding on another one or two after this. Anyways, Enjoy!

Loki surmised that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the Captain tried to decapitate him with his shield—especially with said Captain’s mate, or near-mate, was under his wing, unconscious.

The demigod flinched as he dodged the shield, watching it clip the wall behind him, leaving an obvious dent in the metal (Tony would have been pissed. Or proud. Or both.) and clattering to the ground beside him, dragging Tony just a bit closer to him and away from the other Avengers. Of course, that might have made matters worse as the Quinjet approached from behind the Captain, machinery and weapons whirring in a threatening manner.

What did it look like? Obviously, like he’d hurt Tony, and with some guilt, he realized that he was still responsible for both Tony’s and the rest of the entire team’s injuries. Not that his apologies would mean anything, he supposed absently, focusing on Steve’s movements and the now-landing team.

Steve’s raw snarling and growling had him up on his feet, too—and while Loki was not from Midgard, he was still able to tell pheromones from one another, even if he didn't respond to them in exactly the same way—the distress pheromones Tony had been feeding into the air were cancelled out by Loki’s barely-there but restrictive magic, and Steve’s jealous, possessive ones were fueling his fury even further.

The defensive scent of the Hulk neared them, followed closely by the cold red-headed assassin’s, putting Loki on edge while the archer joined the Captain from the now-landed jet, feeding territorial pheromones into the air. Tony wasn’t just the Captain’s Omega, but the entire Avengers’ Omega, and he definitely wasn’t willing to fight them over a simple misunderstanding.

He slowly raised his hands in surrender, and carefully lifted his wing just enough, allowing the fully focused, potent wave of Tony’s distress pheromones to wipe out the group quickly, even forcing the Hulk back into Bruce upon his arrival, all testosterone and territorial behaviors faltering. Thor was still a league behind the others, and he was secretly relieved—Thor wouldn’t have hesitated to attack him regardless of Tony’s scent or status—that was just an Asgardian thing.

The air was charged and thick with a tension of what the other would do, caution on both sides inhibiting any actions until Tony emitted a rather pained snuffle. Deciding to finally help the mortal who had spared him, even after all he’d done, he moved and spoke up.

“Help him,” Loki asked, shuffling aside slowly as Steve carefully approached, scooping Tony up into his arms, fearlessly tucking Tony’s wings against him as he moved. Had Tony been completely okay, he would have tried to squirm out of his grasp and argued that he could walk on his own, blushing the entire way.

“Bruce, lab,” Steve quickly spoke, and the scientist hurried to the elevator right behind him. “Natasha, Clint—keep the area clear and tell Thor to—Loki, don’t even think about trying to escape.” He snapped, still defensive, but Loki understood and didn’t even bother to try and resist.

“There is nowhere else for me to go. I am here for you to do with me what you wish,” he spoke, wilting slightly again, only for Thor to come crashing onto the launch pad.

The moment between the two was tense, but then Thor had, with some resignation, welcomed his brother into a hug. It was a rather wary hug, but nonetheless a good start when, this time, he felt it returned without a knife in his side.

* * *

“How is he doing, Doctor Banner?” Steve hovered over Tony’s prone form, and Bruce sighed, wearily spreading his left wing, telling Steve to step back just a bit. The Captain obliged, but only just so, still there and trying not to snap at Bruce when he came too close.

“You asked me the same question ten minutes ago,” he mused tiredly. “The answer is still the same now as it was before—his wings are pretty battered and it looks like there are a few cracked bones and sprains, not just in the wings, but if he stays out of trouble he’ll be fine in no time.”

Steve’s huge wings shuffled a bit wildly, threatening to knock something over. Again—Dummy was still disinfecting the medical equipment that had clattered to the floor not five minutes ago, all thanks to Steve’s worrying.

“Maybe you should go get some rest,” Bruce suggested, quietly relieved that he’d made the Captain give the Omega some space. “And figure out what’s up with the Loki situation—we really don’t need anymore incidents like this happening.”

Every fiber of Steve’s being wanted to argue with him, his inner Alpha surging up inside him and demanding that he stay by Tony’s side the entire time he spent recovering, but he sagged, knowing that Bruce was right. He could trust him to take care of Tony—he was a capable Doctor, if anything, and Tony needed him more now at any rate.

“Maybe you could go check on Loki instead?” Bruce suggested, eyes narrowing just a bit, scrutinizing. “I don’t like the idea of him possibly causing more trouble.” He turned his head just a little to glance at the prone form lying on the cot, then back at Steve, gaze fixing on the man’s back.

The Alpha didn’t seem to notice, his eyes only for Tony, but he nodded and left with a grimace.

* * *

 Steve’s nose wrinkled slightly with distrust the moment he stepped into the room that Thor and Loki were currently residing in, but he sighed internally and fixed the emerald-winged-demigod with hard eyes.

The trickster was draped carelessly over the side of the sofa, broad wings flopping over the back of it and on the floor beside it, obviously exhausted. They didn’t so much as twitch when Loki bothered to lift his head off the couch enough to look him in the eye, Thor’s wings shuffling loudly and nervously, barely settled into the giant armchair he’d currently taken over.

“What happened out there? And why are you here? If I find out you’re lying or if you say something I don’t like, I won’t hesitate to have SHIELD come for you.”

Thor looked about ready to protest, but the Alpha stared him down quickly, and he raised his hands in surrender, wings drooping submissively.

“What happened to  _you_?” Loki countered, mouth tightening into a line. “The Man of Iron arrived here alone and used me as bait when that beast appeared.”

“That’s not—that’s not what I’m asking.”

“But it is important.”

“We had some difficulties with the Hulk calming down this time, and the jet was covered with debris.”

“And you didn’t fly after the man yourself?” Loki sneered with mock horror in his voice. Clearly, no matter how exhausted he was, there was always somehow still energy to tantalize his enemies in one way or another.

“Nobody could even hope to keep up with his repulsors, not even me at the top of my game. Now that we’ve got that out of the way—why are you here?”

Loki paused, and Steve felt something like triumph quietly purr at the back of his mind before he pushed it away, trying to remain objective.

Although he didn’t notice right away, his wings that had been locked tensely behind him had arched up, just a little, threatening and almost overbearing. Thor coughed politely, and the distraction was enough for Steve to lower them again as he glanced over at the massive blonde before turning back to the demigod at hand.

“I was… I can’t use my magic as well as I used to,” he explained, defeated. “I already explained this to Stark. I cannot teleport nearly as well as I used to, cannot fight with my magic as I once could have. The Chitauri had prepared someone to come after me already should something have gone wrong and I betrayed them somehow. There was nowhere else I knew I could go—this army is fierce, and I could no longer fend them off myself.”

“Army? You mean the troops they sent down here?” Steve asked dubiously. They hadn’t been particularly difficult to kill, just tedious due to their numbers. It definitely wasn't enough to call an entire army, though.

“Unlike you, Captain, I have been chased across the cosmos. Your poor mortal brain couldn’t even hope to comprehend just how exhaustive that alone can truly be, let alone attempting to fight back whenever the need arose. The mere fact that I remain here without doing you, your city, or your mate damage is simply because you are somehow a lesser threat than those who were after me.” Loki’s wings rose up, although weak, but nearly daring Steve to challenge what he said.

Unfortunately, the Captain was feeling no mercy. “I don’t believe everything you said. JARVIS, is there a cell we can hold Loki in while I call SHIELD?”

The AI unit was quick to respond. “Mr. Stark specifically designed this building not to have any cell-like units or containment centers due to personal reasons. However, there is a secluded testing area fit with a single entrance if you would prefer to house our guest this way.”

Loki seemed to stiffen at the sound of JARVIS’ voice, but slowly peered up at the ceiling knowingly.

“I believe, however, that it would be in your best interests to wait to call SHIELD. There are some extenuating circumstances that I believe might cause some issues if you were to attempt contact with them now.” Unwilling to ask JARVIS what he’d meant while Loki was in the room, he turned away thoughtfully for a moment.

“… Fine. Thor, would you hold Loki on your floor? Make sure he doesn’t escape until we decide what to do with him?”

“Of course,” Thor replied cheerily, somewhat relieved that Loki hadn’t been shipped off to be tortured or interrogated or something just as terrifying. He scooped the dark-haired demigod off the couch, ignoring the man’s feeble protests as he draped him over his shoulder and made his way up to his floor with minimal fuss.

Once they were out of sight and hearing range, Steve turned his ear to the AI.

“What circumstances were you talking about, JARVIS?” He asked, voice hard and wings strained. He still hadn’t changed out of his uniform, covered in black bloodstains, bloodstaining of his own, rips, tears and dirt coating the originally pristine suit, and the AI seemed to take this into account while recounting the events that had taken place with a numerical accuracy and pointed details that left Steve with a choice.

He wanted to confirm with Tony, though—there was no way he was going to invite the possibly condemned criminal to stay for whatever extended period of time without the building owner’s consent. And something inside him didn’t want to be in charge right now, didn’t want to be making these hard decisions or calling the big shots—he just wanted to be with his Omega most of all.

* * *

Tony was unconscious for three days.

The first thing he did when he woke up was realize how light his wings had become, somehow—the maroon feathers, though somewhat bent and crushed a bit, were free of their metal armor. Somehow, they’d managed not to swing up and hit something beside him while he slept, but they were shorter than he was used to.

“Tony, you’re awake!” Bruce’s sleepy voice forced Tony’s eyes up away from his wings and onto his chocolate eyes and weary face. He smiled blearily, wings swaying from side to side, absently, and it prodded Tony’s heart to warm just a little to see how happy his friend was knowing he was okay.

“Indeed, I am,” he croaked. “What’d I miss?”

“Steve has been trying to put Loki in a Lab containment unit down here while you were under,” he explained, suddenly looking sheepish. “JARVIS wouldn’t let him, kept telling Steve that only you had the access code to get in.”

“There is no access code,” Tony mumbled back, stretching his wings and then flinching as he did.

“Whoa, hey—you’re a fast healer and all, Tony, but those injuries need at least another week or two before you try anything else with them,” Bruce protested, reaching out as if to touch them before hesitating an inch from them and retracting his hands.

“Anyways, you were saying? If Steve didn’t manage to shove Loki in a hole, what has he done with him? And where is Steve?”  _I thought he would be here_ , Tony tried not to be hurt, but the unspoken thought hung in the air.

“I kept kicking him out of the lab,” Bruce admitted. “He kept moping and hovering over you—Dummy and I had to get him out of here since he just knocked something over every time he was in here, and we couldn’t risk hurting you.”

 _Oh, that was okay then,_ Tony supposed, although slightly still put off. Right now, he’d rather just be tucked next to Steve, wrapped in those huge wings again and breathing in their smell.

“Did you want me to call him down or…?” Bruce hesitated, nervous but doing well at hiding it. Tony could understand—the man was a Beta and didn’t have much experience in dealing with Alphas or Omegas, let alone a pair of those two courting.

Sparing Bruce the awkward visit of going up to get Steve himself, Tony just grinned and called on his AI.

“JARVIS? Could you let Steve know I’m alive?”

“Of course, sir. It’s a pleasure to see you up and conscious.” Tony rolled his eyes, slowly sitting up and wincing as he felt the sore spots and bruises the fight had left him with. He’d be limping for the next week as well, probably—serves him right for trying to take down a giant bull, he mused.

It didn’t take long for Steve to come bursting through the laboratory doors, nearly gliding over to Tony’s side, almost oblivious to the Doctor standing by the Omega’s side.

“ _Tony,_ ” he whispered, the strain clear in his voice as he watched the billionaire’s wings arch up at the sight of him.

He nearly growled at the Beta, relieved only when he stepped away from his partner’s side, retreating with his hands up and wings lowered, tightly shut.

Those pearly wings shivered their way out from behind Steve’s back, stroking against Tony’s shorter ones shakily, almost needy in the aggressively affectionate movements. Tony hummed as Steve pressed his forehead against his, shivers running up and down his spine at the unadulterated and finally unrestricted contact against his entire wings, instinctively reaching out for Steve—only to remember that Bruce was in the room with them.

Tony expected Steve to at least acknowledge the man, but his worry had been too great the past few days, and needing to get it out of his system this way might have been needed, so he obliged, smiling when Steve responded even more enthusiastically, yet also gently, wary of his near-mate’s injuries.

Bruce cleared his throat, cheeks reddening as he looked away from the two pointedly. Tony smirked at him, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s and earning a pleased hum before pulling back. Steve let loose a quiet whine, almost chasing after him and earning a laugh from the Omega, who patted his face cheekily.

“Steve,” Tony chimed gently, pushing him back just a bit. He grinned at Steve when the Alpha realized they’d been watched and did his best to restrain his blush, looking away shyly.

“I thought it’d be a good idea if told you and Tony together, since he’s… Tony Stark.”  _Since he’s a rebel_ , Tony translated smugly, puffing up with pride.

“Firstly, since your wings are out of commission, you can’t be doing any more flying as Iron Man for a while. That also means that missions are completely out for you, Tony, so don’t get any bright ideas if the alarms go off.”

At this, the brunette whined at the doctor, distracted and wings flailing half-heartedly, still sore but flighty and light. As bad as the scarring looked, Tony was amazed to find that most of the damage was now minimal after years and years of recovery.

“Tony,” Steve warned, and the billionaire’s face scrunched up in disagreement, but he didn’t argue.

“Secondly, our team has been dealing with Loki as best we can, but Steve has been on edge with you being out and JARVIS being… Anyways. Would you mind clearing up what happened?” A pause filled the room.

“You didn’t ask JARVIS for surveillance tapes?” Tony asked, dodging the             question. His wings recoiled behind him, a sign that Steve needed to give him space immediately. The Captain retracted his wings quickly, tucked up against his sides nervously in his reluctance. What would Tony say or do to him? Would he understand that he couldn’t make it back in time for him?

“He couldn’t provide them without you giving him the ‘administrative authorization’,” Bruce quickly explained. “Loki told us himself, but… Tony, he’s the God of Mischief, never mind all the lies and tricks he’s pulled on us before. We just needed to be sure that he was telling the truth, so, if you could...”

The billionaire sighed—as understanding as he was of the situation, it still bothered him that the single demigod who’d bothered to help him was in figurative shackles for doing the right thing—if they were going to try and keep him on their side, this was definitely not the way to go.

“What did he say?” He hedged, and Bruce quickly spoke up, pale brown wings fluttering behind him at once.

“He told us that you got back in a hurry and he was waiting for you—all of us. Thor believes that he figured out which side was the winning side and decided that he wanted to team up with us, but we’re not too sure about that yet, never mind the idea of having him in the field with us.”

“Loki also told us that you tried to call for us and ended up helping you take down some… Thing,” Steve interjected, feathers rustling uncomfortably.

“He did,” the billionaire confirmed, sighing and running a hand through his hair, suddenly looking aged and extremely tired. 

“Everything he told you there is the truth. Where were you guys?”

Steve grimaced, guilt flooding his eyes. “I was having issues… We were struggling with the quinjet and having everyone on board,” he admitted. Tony narrowed his eyes with scrutiny, and the Alpha felt himself shrinking by the minute, drowning in the guilt he’d just surfaced from only minutes ago.

“It was mostly my fault, to be honest,” Bruce piped up, defending the Captain. “He’s not one for the blame game, Tony, but the Other Guy wasn’t letting anyone leave. I think he managed to screw up the comms and that was why we didn’t hear from you in time.” His explanation was a lot less blame-y, to be fair, and while Steve was grateful for it, he still had no excuses to offer Tony. He refused to meet the Omega’s eyes, even as he made a consenting sound.

“I see,” he spoke thoughtfully, shuffling around and looking about ready to hop off of the cot he’d been lying on.

Alarmed, Steve and Bruce quickly rushed to support him on either side when he stepped down, stumbling for a moment.

“Hey now—you’ve been out for a few days—how about you give your legs some time to remember they exist?”

Tony grumbled as Bruce let go, but Steve stayed firmly beside him, looking for all the world like he was going to fall over and shatter into millions of pieces. As much as he wanted to shake Steve off, just a little, he knew he had other things to do first.

“Where’s Loki?” He asked. “We still need to negotiate what we’re going to do with him first—“

“About that.” The three of them jumped when they heard the trickster’s voice behind them—an illusion, Tony thought, relieved. He absentmindedly brushed his wings once against Bruce’s and Steve’s, soothingly, allowing them to relax again slightly.

“I’ve decided to… Stick around, as you humans put it. Thor has mentioned that I would still technically be serving out my punishment from home as well as here if I were to assist your team in the… Protection of this world. I formally offer you my assistance in trade for… Well, the death penalty, as your kind puts it mildly.” The illusion grimaced, as if someone were there behind him—Thor, probably.

“Feel free to accept my offer or not. I simply just believed that, due to the capability of working together with the Man of Iron well in the last battle, we could all possibly collaborate just as well if given the opportunity.”

With that, it flickered out of the lab space, and Tony pondered the offer.

“He’d certainly be an asset, although,” he glanced over at Steve and Bruce, who seemed put off and appalled.

“Hey, I’m all about second chances. I’m the last guy who deserved one here on earth, but I got it. And Iron Man came back out of it—so maybe we can put our differences aside here and think about it.”

“He’s alone here,” Bruce admitted reluctantly. “No staff, no Tesseract—he’s stranded here unless Thor decides to take him back to Asgard.”

“The guy’s too proud to have come to us for help if he could’ve taken them,” Steve added, begrudgingly.

“Sir, there is an incoming message from Director Fury,” JARVIS pinged suddenly from above their heads. “Would you care for me to relay it now?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to hide—let us have it, then.”

_“Attention all Avengers: it appears to me that you’ve been holding Loki in the Tower without consulting me first. Now, from what I’ve seen on the surveillance tapes, it seems that he’s switched sides and, judging from the footage there, he works well with you, Mr. Stark._

_“It is my decision that your team continue to hold him there and see if you can train the guy to work with you. I normally wouldn’t make this decision, but the changing factor remains—Stark Tower is still standing, mostly undamaged, even after seventy-two hours of housing him._

_“Please make sure to negotiate terms with the God of Mischief as well. Define some boundaries and don’t let him wander alone. The terms of house arrest are only to apply outside of battle, but you can discuss some kind of leniency if it really comes to it._

_“I wish you luck, Avengers and Stark—make sure you fix that hole in your roof. I’d have stopped by to tell you this in person if your landing pad wasn’t as devastated as it is.”_

There was a click and then silence, before JARVIS spoke. “This is the end of transmission, sir. Would you prefer for me to send a message along to Director Fury, or the usual acknowledged notification?”

“Just acknowledge, J,” Tony replied, waving a hand at him. “We’ll worry about a solid response later.”

* * *

 

Things had gone surprisingly well—once Steve, Bruce and Tony had agreed that Loki could stay at Stark Tower and work with them, the three went to the upper floors to discuss with Clint and Natasha. While the two had been more resistant to the idea, Fury’s message as well as the Captain’s determination overrode their hesitation, and they finally approached Loki with the news.

Thor hadn’t had much of a say—it’d seemed that he’d already had an opinion formed, and the group already knew that he’d agree with their decision.

Oddly enough, the only hold out on it was Loki. The god had been solemn in his agreement, and asked, belatedly, where the prisoner’s quarters were so he could remain there and rest. Tony had jumped forth to argue, his injuries keeping him from expressing his deepest irritations with the mere idea that he would have such a thing installed into his building, especially after his time in the caves.

“We don’t have prisoner’s quarters here,” he growled at him, and the demigod, although Alpha in behavior and scent, quickly became submissive to him and retreated, much to the Omega’s relief. Thor and Loki were to share their floor, and the blonde brother was only too happy to comply. Loki was less than thrilled, but he begrudgingly accepted it, quietly relieved at the fact that he was no longer being treated like a threat, at least.

* * *

 

Once the whole Loki situation had been settled, the entire team’s attentions fell on Tony’s injuries, making sure not to stress the Omega in fear of handicapping him from flight. Unfortunately, everyone’s attention was somewhat overwhelming, although they all took a backseat to Steve, whose behavior could only really be described as overbearing.

He pretended not to follow Tony around the Tower and constantly was on alert, making sure to barge into the lab when he was working, sometimes with Bruce, and dragging him out to eat upstairs or sleep. It was worse when Bruce was there, because he’d help Steve get the billionaire out of the room, and JARVIS was no help when the two of them had override access codes.

Whenever Steve was gone, training recruits or working with SHIELD on some files and any intelligence, he used his Alpha status to get the other members of the team to mother him while he was gone.

Usually it was Natasha and Clint there, making sure to catch Tony whenever he couldn’t safely maneuver some of his suit’s equipment around the room, and even shielding him from a debris of sparks from wiring gone wrong at one point.

Thor wasn’t any better, the golden Alpha striding into a room and reminding Tony how  _strong_  the guy actually was, bodily lifting the Omega away from perceived danger with a single hand. Unfortunately, the perceived danger was sometimes the powering-on of an engine, particularly cars (Tony still didn’t understand why Thor didn’t like them), the suit, even Dummy and You at one point. Fortunately, they hadn’t seemed to take much offense to the God when he threatened them, chirping in reply and offering him a rag and wrench in apology.

Then Steve would come back home and crowd Tony against him and herd him upstairs to watch a movie with them or go eat dinner out with everyone. It was a surprise that they hadn’t been called to assemble within the last few weeks, something they suspected to do with Loki and SHIELD working together.

Apparently Fury and Loki had been communicating privately on possible enemies planning on assaulting the organization or Earth, working together to eliminate the threats and monitor those that were considering it.

Unsurprisingly, Loki and Tony rarely made contact within the Tower, Steve thoroughly involved in that fact, but when they did, they found peace with each other, building a silent but unbreakable truce with one another. Tony allowed Loki solace with him, distracting him by peppering the man with questions about his magic and the sciences behind it. He’d discovered that Loki was the equivalent of a Beta or Omega in status up in Asgard, and was assumed as an Alpha only because nobody’s scents on Earth were that rich unless that was the case. Tony was understanding, and appreciated the demigod not fawning over him as the others had as well, especially after the fact that a Beta’s instincts were wired to heal, bond, and defend those they came in amiable contact with, no matter if they were Alpha, Beta, or Omega.

In return, Loki would help him evade Steve and the others on occasion, setting up the occasional prank or illusion on the other side of the city that would distract them. Although it was a strange way of showing his gratitude, Loki figured that he understood the situation well enough. He too had been wanting to avoid Thor's attentions as a child whenever he'd been hurt or upset, so it wasn't impossible to relate.

Fury seemed to be in on it, never calling the team in for a debriefing afterwards, and the other Avengers were usually too tired when they finally got back to try and bother their resident billionaire, Steve usually unable to do more than check on him before passing out for a solid twelve hours.

* * *

 

When Tony's wings were no longer bound by bandages, casts or braces of any kind, he tested them for the first time since the battle on the balcony of his penthouse, spreading them and letting the wind stroke them.

"Tony? You okay?" Steve's voice filtered in behind him, and the maroon feathers clapped shut against the billionaire's back.

"Just fine, Cap," he replied, turning to glance at the man. He had a haggard, worn look from having spent himself trying to manage the team as well as monitoring Tony, which was just as hard, if not harder, than commanding the Avengers.

His wings were strong again and ready for their metal sheaths, his bruises having faded and his suit back up to par once more—and yet Tony felt like something had slipped and given way a little. Maybe it had been Steve, just a small fracturing of something between them, but it made a big difference.

“Tony, I—“ Steve paused, uncertain. “I, um. Are we good?”

“Yeah, Cap,” he replied, voice hoarse. “We’re good.”

He wasn't too sure whether he was lying to himself, Steve, or to the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading, and as always, if you have any critiques for me or just want to say hello, please drop me a comment down below or private message. <333


	5. Into the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which surprises happen, Tony and Steve are completely surprised, Natasha and Thor feel threatened, and Loki is a mother hen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...! Sorry for such a late update guys, this beast was a hard one to get out, but the next chapter is most likely going to be the last one, so hey, almost there!  
> Enjoy!

Only an hour or so ago Steve had returned from the SHIELD Helicarrier to find Tony, Loki and Thor sprawled out in the media room. It wouldn’t have bothered him so much had it only been Thor with the Omega, but Loki’s domineering presence didn’t help. In fact, the God of Mischief seemed to deliberately enter Tony’s space, settling their wings side by side, prodding one another back and forth like children often did, even taking turns on tapping on Thor’s wings and looking away. He couldn’t tell which was pestering him and being a distraction, but Steve knew all too well, and had gone off to the kitchen to angrily prepare a meal for the team’s arrival. The Captain hid his emotions well, but in the end it still affected him and his actions, stirring the mixes a little too aggressively and making a mess in the kitchen. He did his best to avoid fuming, instead cleaning up the mess he’d made and then asking JARVIS to call in pizza for the group before hurrying up to his own floor.

The worst part had probably been that Tony hadn’t even pushed Loki away from him like he’d been doing to Steve lately, and that thought alone hurt. Too upset to even bother with sticking around for dinner, Steve had grumbled to himself all the way up to his room, having settled in his own rather barren nest.

* * *

 

“Tony,” Steve hummed, nudging him gently.

The genius blinked awake.

He panicked for a moment—had he followed his subconscious (or not-so subconscious) desires and crawled into Steve’s nest? Had he fallen asleep in the lab again? Oh, no—he was just in the media room, dim with the glow of the lights thanks to JARVIS, and it all came rushing back to him. They’d all gathered in the media room to introduce Thor and Loki to the Wizard of Oz (Steve’s turn to pick a movie. Go figure), and Steve had even gone and gotten Tony that coffee from that shop he’d visited last time. It’d been sweet enough that the genius had, unwittingly, spread his wings again and brushed them against Steve’s forgivingly, a contented feeling settling upon the group as the duo made peace with one another once again.

However, even with that coffee, Tony had managed to fall asleep tucked into Steve’s wing, head resting on the Alpha’s shoulder for much-needed rest.

Unknown to Tony, Steve had covered Tony protectively with his wing as the group finished the movie, zealously tugging him against his side. He tried not to send a jeering look over at Loki, who was too entranced with the movie to notice, busily fending off Thor’s wandering hands when the thunder god reached for his popcorn with a slap of his own.

Beside the brothers seated on the cushions in front of them, Clint had been snickering under his breath as he threw popcorn at Bruce, who had fallen asleep on the couch with his mouth hanging open, chestnut-chocolate wings drooping over the sides. The archer had been aiming for the doctor’s open mouth, but Natasha had been consistent in deflecting them in favor of protecting Bruce—and the other Avengers—from Hulking out.

After a pointed elbow to the gut, he’d quickly acquiesced and stowed the food safely away in his stomach—after, of course, managing to stick some of the popcorn kernels in Steve’s pearly white down with a shit-eating grin.

A stern look from the larger Alpha had the group relaxing and finishing the movie with much fewer disturbances, unwilling to risk Tony waking for a second. Once the movie had ended, Thor had been drowsily carted off by his brother, and the two Asgardian siblings were followed closely by Clint and Natasha, who were half dragging and half walking Bruce back to his own floor gently, shutting the door to the media room quietly behind them.

Silence had fallen, and Steve was more than content staying by Tony’s side and letting him use his wings as a pillow-slash-blanket, but he also knew the billionaire would be more comfortable lying down or in his nest.

Thus, he’d carefully jostled Tony and the man had woken, and there he was, bleary but piercing intelligent eyes peering up at him, then the room around him. The Alpha inside him purred, content when Tony made no movements to get away from Steve, instead nestling down further into his white feathers, eyelids drooping again.

“Tony,” Steve hummed again, ensconcing the man in the soft white down anyways, but nudging the man, who blinked awake again. “Hmmm? Steve?”

He smiled. “C’mon—let’s get you to bed.”

“Don’t wanna,” Tony replied, curling lazily into Steve’s side. With a sigh, the Captain reached under the Omega, scooping the man up and into his chest, rising up from his seat and taking the stairs up to his floor.

“But Steeeeeeve,” the genius complained. “I’m hungry.” The Alpha stopped short, shocked. He shook it off quickly, though, and continued on his way down the hallway towards Tony’s bedroom.

“Why, Tony,” he teased, false surprise coloring his tone. “I’ve never heard such a thing from you before! Come by me one more time?”

Tony muttered—no, swore—under his breath, before repeating himself. Triumphant, Steve reached Tony’s room, hesitant for a moment before swinging the door open and lowering the billionaire to his feet.

The Alpha cut him off as soon as the Omega whirled around, bumping into him and mumbling something about food, sending him into the room.

“I’ll bring some up to you,” Steve promised, before continuing his way downstairs to collect the food he’d promised Tony, checking the time as he went. Three in the morning. The eccentric genius had some strange hours, sure—so Steve made sure to cook something for him that was heavy and would put him to sleep for sure.

* * *

 

Tony was wrenched awake with a jolt.

He was sweating profusely, and he was so sure he could read the minds of everyone downstairs, the smells of the Tower were so overwhelming and the sounds were even worse, his head was pounding and—Oh no. With a quick wipe of the hand against the sheets under him, he knew—some way, somehow, his heats had returned.

Tony held his breath, praying that it was some terrible nightmare, some joke, until he spotted the polished plate on the bedside table next to him, stiffening as a memory slowly came back to him, and he turned carefully around to find the second occupant in his room.

Steve had curled up in the corner of his room, away from his nest, giving him a wide berth. It looked seriously uncomfortable, and the pheromones charging the air probably weren’t helping that at all, either.

“Man of Iron,” a voice called carefully on the other side of his bedroom door, and he held back a groan. Just when things couldn’t get any worse…

A growl sounded behind him, and Tony’s maroon wings flared in alarm when he realized that Steve had awoken, and was acting as an Alpha would during heat. Panicked, he swathed himself in his wings and did his best not to make any of the wanton noises that would have the Alpha on him in seconds, forcing himself silent.

“I apologize, but I am entering now,” the God of Mischief spoke, rather forcefully, and opened the door. In a rush that nearly made Tony dizzy, Loki’s scent-cancelling magic quickly neutralized all pheromones in the room, and Steve jolted back to himself with a gasp.

“Captain,” Loki spoke quietly, carefully. “I think it would be best if we left Stark alone.”

“I—yeah,” he looked ashamed, like a kicked puppy. “I just—he asked for me to stay, said he was in pain… I just wanted to make sure he was okay, I didn’t think—“

“That is all fine and well,” the demigod replied quickly, raising his wings to shield the doorway and offer Tony privacy as the man squirmed uncomfortably, beginning to notice just how unhelpful his pants actually were.

“But I can only work this spell for so long, Captain. Let’s move away from him now before we lose you again.”

Steve grimaced, unable to help himself from pressing his lips against Tony’s feverish forehead apologetically before leaving the room in a hurry. Once the Captain was out of the room, Tony began panting and shed his shirt, nearly sure that he was going to catch fire if he didn’t remove any layers soon.

“I’ll have him send up food and something of his for you,” Loki quickly spoke, a balm to Tony’s humiliation. He shot him the best look of gratitude he could manage before the demigod left him writhing in his nest miserably. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

 

Steve swung his fists with a frightening precision at the punching bag before him, growling as the chains above him creaked threateningly.

Ever since he’d vacated Tony’s room, his protective streak had flourished even further, and he couldn’t help but snap or growl at his teammates if they began to talk about the genius at all.

Natasha and Thor, both Alphas or having the demeanor of one, as with Thor’s case, were easily riled and tense thanks to these outbursts, held back only by their team’s Betas, Bruce, Clint and, most surprisingly of all, Loki.

The God of Mischief had taken the responsibility of transporting food and clean supplies up to Tony, his scent-neutralizing powers outfitting him as the best for the job, and Natasha and Thor both took turns sparring with Steve when he was getting too frustrated. His strength had spiked impossibly after being exposed to the Omega’s scent as well as his territorial urges, becoming aggressive and even more miserable, knowing that he couldn’t help himself. He was aggravated and worried—Tony’s heat had been going on for nearly two weeks, and it’d been extremely excessive given the average heat for most Omegas.

Bruce made sure to check in on Tony during his second week, and avoided Steve whenever he could, unwilling to deal with the man’s territorial and jealous urges. However, the Alpha was still able to track him down, often asking about Tony and his current state of mind and health. The doctor was truthful enough, but never supplied too much detail, believing it to be supremely personal information.

“Bruce, is Tony—“

“I already explained as much as I know, Steve,” he’d sighed, running a hand through his hair. Bruce had been doing plenty of research and checking with other doctors on the subject and checking constantly. Because of Tony’s inherent lack of heats throughout the past few years, this one was promised to be more intense, grueling, and lengthened, as the next ones promised to be.

Steve gave another mean swing to the punching bag, sending it flying across the room and collapsing against the window with a snarl of frustration. He needed to spar again today.

* * *

 

If Steve hadn’t killed Loki by now, he was going to.  
The demigod made regular visits to the Omega, driving the Alpha mad. On more than one occasion, he’d nearly tackled the man and tried to hurt him, only to find that he’d teleported out and away from Steve’s clutches.

JARVIS refused him any access to the elevator up to Tony’s suite or above, forcing him to use the staircase that conveniently did not approach Tony’s room or around it. The rooftop was still a mess, and Tony’s balconies were barred and out of the question, again due to JARVIS’ protective protocols.

The third week was hellish, to say the least, and both Natasha and Thor had to spar with Steve at the same time now, both too easily thrown aside or pinned without the other’s distraction. Steve was never one to back down from any challenge, no matter how hard, and never lost—that was why he was Alpha. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t take on a challenge every now and again, though, and did so with an intense fervor that nearly got Natasha’s arm broken.

When Loki began joining them during their spars, Steve went _wild_. He’d have the tendency to pursue the demigod wherever he went, often throwing Thor and Natasha aside with ease, attempting to tackle him and landing on his face empty-handed with the guy across the way, helping his teammates back to their feet. Loki didn’t often join their spars thanks to Steve constantly trying to maul him, but when he did, the Alpha would get tired a lot faster and be a little more bearable. Steve didn’t mean to be so difficult or aggressive—he just hadn’t been given much of a choice with his instinct.

He knew that Bruce was trying to help Tony as much as possible and being a complete Science Bro about it, and knew even better that he couldn’t even begin to dream that he could take a punch from the Hulk and be guaranteed to recover quickly from it. But Loki?

He’d literally just shown up one day and become best friends with his Omega the next—of course he was going to be territorial. Especially when considering the fact that they hadn’t even bonded yet… Yeah, that wasn’t bound to end well at all.

* * *

 

 Tony awoke with a groan.

Stretching his wings, the Omega glanced around the room, thoughts bleary and limbs heavy. His nest smelled of slick and sweat and Heat, and Tony wrinkled his nose in distaste, glancing over himself.  
He was slick, sticky, and probably smelled foul, too, feathers sticking up at odd angles and matted with sweat. With purpose, he groaned once more and rose from his nest, making his way over to his bathroom to clean himself up.

“Good morning, sir,” JARVIS greeted him, finally seeing him up and about and seeming relieved over it. “Shall I alert the team of your newfound vigor?”

“No, just… Just Bruce and Loki. I need to clean up in here before Steve knows, I don’t want him getting worked up over nothing.”

With that, the billionaire shuffled into the shower, scrubbing his skin clean from the scents of heat and pheromones until it was a shiny red, and none too gently dousing and washing his feathers in the steaming water. Tony made sure to be extremely thorough with washing any lingering scents off and any traces of dishevelment away from him, even taking care to groom and preen his wings to an unusually neat state before tugging on the lighter, well-tested metal prosthetics over his wings.

These were gentler on him and less showy, taking an umbrae approach to the maroon to red to gold transitions. They also covered less of his wings, only lengthening the primary and secondary feathers to enhance his flight ability and not hindering his muscles nearly as much, given that he could more confidently trust they wouldn’t flex out and take someone’s eyes out.

Tony quickly dressed himself in one of his old band T-shirts, favorite jeans and tennis shoes, hurrying out of his bedroom and onto the balcony outside, taking off into the air and flying down a few floors to the commons area.

When he arrived, the space was barren, and he eagerly made his way towards the coffee machine, turning it on and inhaling the smell of glorious caffeine and rich wakefulness.

“Where is everyone?” Tony murmured mostly to himself, settling down at the counter with the mug in his hands.

_Where is Steve?_

“Captain Rogers is currently on his way up. Agents Romanov and Barton are in the gymnasium, Doctor Banner is on his way back with groceries, and the Odinson brothers are otherwise occupied on the roof, although it is suggested that they too will be joining you here momentarily. Shall I summon them?”

“Eh, sounds like they’re busy,” Tony hummed. In reality, he didn’t want any confrontations right now—the only people he wanted to see were Bruce and Loki, for science-y purposes, and Steve, just because he was Steve.

Speaking of Steve—lo and behold, the Captain was stepping off the elevator, and stunned to see a pair of maroon and gold wings blinking back at him from the counter.

“Tony,” he blurted, wings flaring on instinct as if to ensconce the man. For once, Tony wouldn’t have minded, and followed the Alpha’s movement, companionably brushing one of his wings against the Captain’s.

“Hiya Cap,” he piped up, not turning to face the man and instead throwing a loose smile over his shoulder. Of course, he was a little more than surprised when he was suddenly forcibly whirled around on his stool, finding a pair of very plush, gentle Captain-y lips against his own.

The kiss was surprisingly intense given how chaste it was, and felt like it lasted twenty years although they both recognized distantly that it lasted infinitely less than that, and pulled away with bright red staining their cheeks.

“It’s good to see you, too,” the genius chuckled after a moment, fearlessly brushing his feathers against Steve’s. The Alpha jumped, flushing from chin to hairline, but allowed it, tentatively spreading his wings a little further.

That was something else in a nutshell—a mating ceremony was a sacred thing, involving the presenting of wings, skin-to-feather contact, and the brushing of primaries and secondaries against their partner’s. It was a surprisingly intimate exchange, and when both parties pulled away from it, their scents changed permanently to become a significant mix between scents. It helped others identify those who were and weren’t in committed relationships. The proof of a mixed scent was just as legally powerful as a marriage document was, and sometimes even more so when the two were tied together inexplicably.

“I would prefer you didn’t do that in our eating area,” a silvery voice piped up—Loki’s. Apparently the Trickster had managed to enter without the Alpha or Omega noticing. The feat was even further enunciated when they noticed the demigod’s brother standing beside him, grinning at the two of them shamelessly.  
“Man of Iron,” Thor greeted cheerfully, broad golden hawks wings flapping around liberally. “It is good to see that you are in excellent health and doing well! My brother and your Alpha have both been most concerned and mothering over you in your absence.” _Translated? He’s glad you’re still alive and that Steve and Loki were mother hens,_ Tony thought, smirking easily and waving a hand at them cheekily.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” he chuckled. Loki’s gold-embossed wings remained tucked behind him, but the way they twitched and curled while they conversed spoke wonders of his relief to see their Iron Man well and alive. Steve’s wings had curled back away, only opening just so for Tony to better admire them and allow them to feel the new metal prosthetics with tentative, gentle strokes. Judging by the Alpha’s growing smile, he liked them more than his last ones.

“I believe it’d would be in your best interest to visit Doctor Banner,” Loki finally mentioned. “It’d be an excellent idea to try and hypothesize when to anticipate another heat and possible complications that may occur with those.” His green eyes fixed on Tony’s sharply, daring him to argue.

“Agreed,” Tony mumbled, raising his hands in surrender. “Steve, I’ll be down in the lab today trying to figure that out. It’ll be kind of boring stuff, you don’t have to—“

“Let’s go.”

“Right, okay, um. Then, yes, let’s go talk to Bruce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quick, before I forget~!  
> Thank you to everyone who has left me kudos and comments~! Flamey here just figured out that those are things nice people do to say hi, so~!  
> As always, if you guys have critiques or tips for a newbie writer or just want to say hi, please don't be afraid to drop a comment down below for me as I love to hear from you guys!


	6. Over the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is good news and little else to harm them--and nobody thinks it's boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! So sorry for the wait!  
> One more chapter and then this story will be complete! <3

Moments after Tony had been fawned over by his Beta friend, Bruce had declared that Tony’s heats had healthily returned after major stress and a near-PTSD experience, although they would be irregular and longer for at least three to six months until they smoothed back out to being three to five days a month.

“Those blood tests I pulled also confirmed that you’re still a fully operational Omega, Tony,” he continued. “But it’s probably more likely that the chance of any conception will occur once your heats become regulated and consistent again. Hey, Loki, what do you think? Have you seen anything like this in Asgard?”

Bruce turned to the demigod, who stiffened before quickly relaxing and responding to the question. “I believe you are correct, although we have his Alpha here. Depending on his demeanor we could more easily discern when Tony’s heats were to occur, and it is their decisions of how to approach his newfound fertility. We have had warriors stunt their fertility during battle, but the damage was never permanent unless damage was done exclusively to the genitalia,” Loki explained. His wings shifted uncomfortably. “I have not done any studies on the subject myself, but the facts remain clear.”

Tony expected Steve to cheer and celebrate with the two Betas who were now congratulating Tony, especially now that he could possibly have fledgelings if he was so inclined, but he’d simply wrapped his arms around the genius and rested his chin atop his head, humming contentedly upon hearing the news and covering him with his wings like a blanket—something meant to be soothing.

“JARVIS, can you let everyone know that I’m alive now? And ready to go eat? I’m thinking prosciutto today, what say you guys?” Tony piped up.

“Certainly, sir,” the AI complied, and Tony held back a grin. He really liked being in charge, even if it was only JARVIS, Dummy and You for now.

“Prosciutto?” Steve looked down at him, confused, and Tony smirked.

“It’s Italian food, Cap. You’re missing out on the good stuff. JARVIS, make reservations at that one place, you remember? The one with the pig holding sausage links on the logo.”

The absurd faces Bruce and Steve made nearly made him laugh—Tony had made that last bit up, but he couldn’t be blamed for it. His team had been taking him too seriously these past few weeks, Loki aside, of course, who naturally took everyone seriously. They’d forgotten just how much of a jerk he could be when he wanted to, and he was going to make sure they wouldn’t forget again anytime soon. There was a beeping sound from JARVIS that Tony took as confirmation, and he settled in comfortably.

“Did someone say Italian food?” Natasha’s head peeked in from around the lab door, Clint dropping from the vents and making Bruce jump, flapping his wings haphazardly in his panic and sending all of his papers off the worktables he’d been leaning against and onto the floor.

“Yes, Stark did,” Loki sighed, perching on a workbench a little ways away from everyone. He looked up and opened a palm out of boredom while the other Avengers slowly trickled into the lab, allowing an illusion to flare up and dance in his hand, unashamedly swathing himself in raven-black feathers.

Of course, that was before Thor tackled him—by tackled, that meant he gave him a brutal pat on the shoulder that jarred him—and jostled the God of Mischief enough to make his illusions mist away with a scowl.

“Hey, Thor, Loki, are you guys ready to go?” The Captain looked over at them lazily, still draped comfortably over Tony’s shoulders.

They were all dressed decently, wearing regular clothing that wouldn’t attract too much attention, at least, but Clint and Natasha were bickering back and forth playfully, dragging Bruce into it and making the poor man stand there awkwardly, looking at the other four with pleading eyes. The team remained there for a solid five minutes

“Right, then, so out we go!” Tony quickly chimed, collecting his scientific cohort from the conversation with the spies and whirling out of the garage door with Steve right behind him. Begrudgingly, Natasha and Loki followed them out, herding them past the sleek cars with bright obnoxious colors before they broke something and earned Tony’s wrath.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turned out, Happy ended up having to come get the group a little earlier than they’d anticipated. When the team had arrived at the tiny hole-in-the-wall, Tony had them put in their orders immediately so as to try and get to their meal more quickly to avoid the inevitable crowd of fans, admirers and haters alike to interrupt them.

Somehow, though, the place that JARVIS had chosen was locked up with the line trailing outside. It was popular today, it seemed, and the vast number of people waiting outside for a taste of authentic Italian food widened their eyes as the Avengers entered the restaurant as quickly as they could.

It was extremely difficult not to recognize the infamous Captain America and Tony Stark alone, but the massive God of Thunder trailing behind them with a pre-Hulk Banner, two deadly assassins and Loki in tow were definitely something the city was concerned about.

Tony had noticed the Alphas in the restaurant whipping their heads up to eye him with gleaming, greedy eyes, his newly re-discovered fertile Omega scent absolutely enticing. Steve made sure to crowd over him a little, protectively, as if to warn the others as to what would be coming their way should anyone have made any advances. Luckily, nobody dared to do so, especially with Natasha and Thor crowding in after the infamous Omega.

Their meal was tense, however hard the team tried to behave as normally as possible, and the servers ushering them to the most private booth in the restaurant they could provide. Natasha and Clint made sure to sit on the ends of the rounded booth, sandwiching Tony between Steve and Loki with Thor and Bruce on either side. The team broke that barrier every once in awhile, but with the attention of the other customers around them, it was hard to be completely at ease. In the end, Tony had wearily had their meals boxed and sent out with them, footing the team’s bill and leaving a massive tip for their servers (Thor had ordered at least one of everything there, and those poor waiters and waitresses struggled to keep up with the God’s appetite) and calling his private driver.

Happy had taken pity on them and even gone to lengths to get them back to the tower with minimal fuss and traffic, back in record time.

Unwilling to wait for an elevator or go through the lobby, the Avengers had simply spread their wings and shot up into the air, taking their time to enjoy the feel of the wind on their feathers before they landed on the balcony below.

Tony had laughed at Steve’s face once he’d eaten some of the prosciutto he’d recommended, admitting that it tasted like rotten meat and felt like he’d tried to eat a wet paper towel.

 

* * *

 

While the Alphas had broad wings that allowed them to fly independently and without much effort, the Betas and Omega glided carelessly around the Tower.

Clint had a darting speed about him, shooting across the sky in sharp, quick bursts and startling others sometimes. Loki and Thor picked up the best altitude, the golden-haired sibling more daring than his brother and performing dives, turns, and whirls in the air.

Loki simply minded his own business, lingering on the outskirts of the group and occasionally following in the vague directions of their Iron Man.

Bruce was most often found tailing one or more members of the team, wings silent and strong, usually following in Tony’s wake. Tony’s movements were dramatic, to say the least. His metallic wings gleamed and sharp steel feathers flared with an attractive flow to them, moving almost sinuously against the sky. His flight pattern was more equal to that of an Alpha’s, strong and effortless but with a more jagged rhythm to it.

The blade-like feathers cut cleanly through the air quietly and easily enough, sure, but his wings were still heavy. It was a rare sight to catch Tony flying without the aid of his suit, considering the weight of the metal and power needed for each wingstroke, and his teammates appreciated this time with him.

Tony personally didn’t mind that as much now that the prosthetics he wore were slightly lighter. He’d come to agree with them, with the way they blended with his maroon wings that gleamed just enough in the right light—he really didn’t mind them so much now, especially after they’d been looked over with approving or admiring eyes from his teammates, particularly Steve’s.

It was nice to be flying together with a flock again.

Seeing the Avengers flying and around the tower together was a rare sight, and there was no wonder that a crowd was gathering below. Their wings altogether were a spectacle, all of them beautiful and having been ranked in beauty in a few teen magazines before, as well. Despite the beauty in the air, the spectators were all keenly aware of how dangerous each individual could be, especially the Alphas when it came to Tony, Bruce, and Clint, and kept their distance.

Steve was careful not to be watching Tony too obviously, but the genius had noticed, smugly circling the Alpha’s huge wingspan and teasing him with his own feathers, wings whistling slightly when he dove sharply or daringly twirled in the air one too many times. It was surprisingly peaceful, still, and even more domestic. It was the first time in awhile that Tony had displayed some of his Omega flair with Steve, and definitely the first time any of his teammates had witnessed anything like that behavior from him, especially with his aerial pattern focusing solely on the Alpha’s.

It was startling to the team, but they all were wise enough to make no commentary.

Finally having had enough of the sky for once, Tony swiftly glided over to the commons floor balcony, folding his wings and sheathing the dangerous blades, shaking them out mindlessly while watching the others remain in the air for just a bit longer. He loved being out there without pressure, and loved being up with the others even more so.

When his windswept teammates entered the building, he smirked when Thor’s face lit up, Clint not far behind them as they assaulted their leftovers, appetite returning.

And if Tony winked a little flirtatiously at the Cap over their food, nobody said anything about their leader’s flushed cheeks.

For once, all was well, and Tony wasn't as bored as he thought he'd be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone!  
> I will be attempting some ficlets for this upcoming NaNoWriMo that aren't exclusively Avengers fics, so if you have something you'd like to see (be it a prompt or something else!) then drop me an Ask on my Tumblr account!
> 
> Here it is~!  
> emi-writes.tumblr.com


	7. Beyond the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which Tony is a dummy, Loki is a concerned mother hen, and Steve just wants to know what the hell is going on and why this keeps happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter is finally up, and again, I'm so sorry for the wait!  
> Also, NaNoWriMo this month, coming up soon! Keep an eye out for Welcome to Night Vale, Sherlock, and possibly more coming your way.  
> Till then, enjoy! <3

Tony swore as he dodged another massive bullet— _which idiot villain thought that Super Mario Bullet-sized missiles were a good idea?!_ He screamed internally, wincing when Steve’s steely voice crackled in his ear, loud and demanding.

“Stark, get your head in the game!” A quick pause filled with clangs, then followed by a grunt. “We need your help down here in the square!”

“I’m on it,” he snapped, speeding over to the Captain’s side in a hurry. It hadn’t been unwarranted—he’d been slower today and had felt a fever coming on and one hell of a migraine was beginning to make itself known. His stomach was hurting and his vision was going kind of fuzzy. Not that he’d told anyone—they would make him stay behind, and he was sure he’d go insane if he did.

After scouring the destroyed remains of the square, Natasha and the Captain were both on the ground, avoiding the objects being thrown about overhead thanks to the Hulk, and Tony quickly blew some apart via repulsor blasts before snapping the two up under each arm and allowing his wings to stabilize his flight to take them far enough from the Hulk’s pillage.

From his roaring laughter, he knew vaguely that the beast was having one hell of a time ripping something apart that wasn’t necessarily shooting tiny bullets at his head. Streamlining a good distance away from the Hulk, at least a mile, within moments, he paused, throwing the Captain and Natasha in the air, strongly aware that they could handle themselves, and shot back up towards the massive ship shooting the giant missiles.

It was a strange-looking thing, a large floating cube with a grey, steely hull, pockets on the side releasing the bullet-shaped projectiles relentlessly. Fortunately, there was only one in the sky, giving Tony some kind of hope as he shot up further into the sky.

“JARVIS, take a quick scan of that thing,” he ordered, spreading his wings out so the blades jutted out of them, slicing multiple bullets and machines open cleanly without any hindrance in his flight, which he noted smugly.

After jauntily rising up to the hull of the ship, the scans showed that part of the structure was particularly weaker than the rest, located near the missile-launcher pockets, and his insides squirmed excitedly.

“J, start up the new attack interface,” he quipped. The AI argued. “Sir, we haven’t even run the proper calculations for that interface, it could be—“

“Now, JARVIS,” he growled.

There was a whine of engineering as he ruthlessly braved the barrage of missiles, wings clamping shut tightly until he threatened to crash into the ship’s side.

“Now!” He commanded, wings flaring as wide as they could go, blades and sheaths extended to their fullest. Between the blades emerged a series of five lazers each,  and as Tony tore his way through the ship, doing his best to ignore the shrieking pain of his body as it ran its way through thick tons of metal, he began to spin mid-flight, allowing the beams of light to cleanly slice the machine multiple times over and over before emerging from the other side, the ship’s debris collapsing on the earth below.

Utterly exhausted, he told JARVIS to initiate the auto-pilot system and direct him to the ground safely, collapsing weakly once his feet made contact with the concrete below. He vaguely remembered hearing voices—Steve’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s—but couldn’t focus. His wings were wet and his back was wet and he flailed back into the sky, panicked, thinking that there were lacerations he had to attend to, that he was bleeding heavily.

The last thing he expected was to be tackled out of the sky by a green-and-gold-winged demigod, who somehow overrode his controls and directed him at top-speeds back to the Tower in less than a moment.

Their landing was made up of an unceremonious crash on the Tower roof, the suit parting at the demigod’s command so Loki could pry him from the wreckage and half-carry half-drag him downstairs.

“L-Loki, what are you—Get yer paws off—“ Tony argued feebly, unable to fight against the emerald gods’ strength. Fixing his eyes coldly on Tony’s, Loki gently brushed a wing tip against the mechanical ones, and suddenly a ferocious, unrelenting pain lit it up all the way Tony’s back with a yowl.

“You idiot,” he hissed. “You went into battle while going into heat? What kind of fool are you to risk us—and yourself—in such a manner?!”

His heat had arrived. Oh no.

 

Moments later, Steve had crashed through the landing pad entrance, and had barked Loki’s name threateningly, taking large strides into the room, followed shortly by Thor, who quickly declared that he would keep Loki in his quarters in realization of the situation.

Loki had Tony propped up against him, trying to soothe his body’s anxiety and stressors by giving him fluids—non-alcoholic Gatorade, mind you—and gently but hastily fanning him with his feathers.

Before either could jump to pry the two apart, Tony weakly flared his wings, swallowing his pain as best he could. Luckily, the metal sheaths coating his wings prevented the rest of the team from seeing just how disgusting they really were, but it still hurt a shit ton as he protested.

“He was just looking out for me,” he managed, defensive, and allowing both Steve and Thor to get a good look at him this time.

What he thought was blood had actually been the marking glands on his wings producing oil for the first time in a long time, something that only fertile Omegas could do, and slick had gotten all over his back and legs, as well as into the lining of the suit, which he would have to burn to fully remove the scent from. He still remained feverish, and had further noted how everything was too bright and hot and itchy, shuffling uneasily as Steve towered over him, the Alpha pheromones absolutely pouring off of him in sheets.

            “Captain, we’ll take our leave now. We won’t bother you again,” Loki spoke lowly, appeasing, lowering his wings and flattening them just a little as he and Thor beat a cautious but hasty exit.

There was an awkward silence as Steve approached his Omega, whose wings had lowered and begun fidgeting, unsure as to what to say. Finally, massive wings curled around Tony completely, ensnaring him and allowing him to properly feel safe.

“You’re in heat,” he murmured slowly, as if in realization. “You shouldn’t have been alone with him. You could have been hurt,” he continued, still in his low voice, and he gave up a slight quiver that could be felt all the way down his toes.

“Yeah, well, I’m not. He didn’t even touch me, Cap, it’s ok,” Tony managed to say, words muffled by the massive wings ensconcing him, comforted by the Alpha, whose touch was reassuring and his body soothingly cool. For reassurance’s sake, he ran the outside down of his rather oily wings against the insides of Steve’s, consoling him enough to be able to move a little and sending a shiver down the Alpha’s back.

“Steve, as much as I love all of this chatter and time down here,” Tony began, feeling the slick begin to pool in his pants once more. “I think I need you.”

Steve growled, whisking them up the elevator and to their private floor.

Once upstairs, Tony watched from his nest with bated breath as Steve’s wingspan, full and handsome and preened neatly, spread out and up, just for him—presenting himself, Tony realized, blinking in shock and trying to clear his mind.

 _So Steve… Really is my Alpha, then,_ he thought, suddenly so relieved that his eyes began to smart.

The Alpha was looking nervous, waiting for Tony to say something, but the Omega said nothing. He simply spread his own maroon wings and brushed them against his ivory feathers—first the primaries, the secondaries, and—oh.

It was a bonding ceremony the two were doing, plain and simple, but neither stopped in their ministrations until, as they should be, the Omega was at the heart of the flurry of feathers and arms with his Alpha surrounding him.

“I didn’t know you… Felt this way, too,” Steve murmured against Tony’s forehead, arms and wings wrapped around him. The billionaire snorted, nuzzling his way further against the Alpha’s neck. “Are you kidding? I’d have been surprised if I didn’t, Steve.”

 Then Steve, wearing a playful grin as he did, pressed his lips against his Omega’s neck, nibbling just a little, and, with a moan, Tony’s wings fell open, an invitation.

 _I am his Alpha after all,_ Steve reasoned. _What kind of Alpha would I be to say no to such a request?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a weak ending--I tend to start stories more often than I finish them, hence the rookie-r rookie-esque ending. Do forgive me~<3  
> If you'd like to write the smut-filled heat yourself, please feel free!


End file.
